


What The High Tides May Bring

by myshipsaresunk



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Found Family, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 101,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25372612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myshipsaresunk/pseuds/myshipsaresunk
Summary: Pirate AU. Annabeth Chase loves her betrothed but as her wedding day draws near, she realizes she's missing something in her life. After being captured by pirates and rescued by the mysterious Captain Jackson, Annabeth finds herself drawn into a world beyond all imagination. With each new adventure, she finds her bonds to her old life fading. But some connections aren't so easily shaken, especially when a determined villain threatens everything she holds dear...
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Hazel Levesque/Frank Zhang, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Silena Beauregard/Charles Beckendorf
Comments: 110
Kudos: 342





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: Teen and Up for dark themes and violence
> 
> Author's Note: Hey everyone! I reread both the series last month and got super inspired to write a Percabeth pirate AU, so here you go. (Seriously, I wrote this thing in 3 weeks :3) It's heavily Pirates of the Caribbean inspired, because that's mostly what I know of pirates, and I admit to taking some aspects from that series to add to this one (such as Tortuga, which we'll see next chapter). I also added in a lot of Beckendorf, because he's one of my favs. This is mostly written from Annabeth's POV, but there will be some chapters/segments from Percy's POV. I have the entire story already written, and I will be updating it once a week on Sundays.
> 
> I do have one other Percabeth story posted here, however I am currently in the process of completely revising and rewriting it because 14 yr old me was (surprise surprise) not the best writer and I'm in a phase where I'm trying to finish my incomplete works. I will let you know when I have that finished and begin updating it

**Chapter 1**

Annabeth is almost relieved when the pirates disrupt her wedding.

It isn’t that she has anything against her groom - in fact, the groom is probably the only reason she’s okay with the wedding in the first place. Lord Luke Castellan is handsome, wealthy, kind, and one of Annabeth’s best friends. Since her mother remarried into high society when she was seven years old, she and Luke have gone to all the same social events. Of course, him being older than her by several years, he didn’t look at her romantically until the past year, when she came of age and grew into her skin. She’d always had a crush on him, so when he started courting her and finally asked for her hand, there was no hesitation on her part.

No, her groom isn’t the issue. It’s the timing of it all.

When Luke had asked her to marry him, she’d assumed she’d have time before the actual marriage. High society weddings are extravagant affairs, and she thought it would take six months to a year to plan. She counted on that extra time to...well, she’s not sure what exactly, but she thought she could have one last big adventure before settling down and becoming the perfect wife. After all, Annabeth is still fairly young to be married - only nineteen years old. Many women have a couple more years before tying the knot.

But no, her mother and Luke’s had set to planning, and three months later Annabeth found herself waking up to maids scurrying around, hastily preparing for her big day.

The maids had rushed her through a bath, cleaning her hair and braiding it up in a fancy updo, dressing her in seven layers of slips and lace and corsets and ribbons. They’d powdered and colored her face and lips and pinched her cheeks for an extra shot of blush. When her mother had entered the room, Annabeth sat on a stool in front of the vanity, feeling more like a doll than a girl.

“You look beautiful, my darling,” her mother had said, gently taking her face in her hands. “Luke is a lucky man.”

Annabeth thought she was the lucky one, having the chance to marry the only boy she’d ever loved. Her dreams were just hours from becoming reality.

Her mother’s eyes were stormy, though, and she pulled up another stoll and sat across from Annabeth, taking her hands in her own.

“I’ve been waiting to have this discussion with you until your wedding day,” her mother said. “But time is running out, and you need to know.”

“Need to know what?”

“I have always done my best to impart my wisdom upon you. I have educated you far more than most girls. I have always taught you to think for yourself. You are extremely intelligent, Annabeth, and it will get you what you want. But you must be careful.” Her mother rubbed her thumb across her hand. “Luke cannot know how smart you are. No man can know how smart you are. We do not live in a world where intelligence in women is prized. If you aren’t careful, you can ruin everything.”

Annabeth felt rocked to her core. She’d always known she was smarter than the other girls, but she’d never thought of it as a bad thing. She just thought the other girls were more interested in other things. She never thought it was because no one valued their minds.

She never thought it could jeopardize her relationship with Luke.

“If intelligence is so dangerous, then why did you teach me?” Annabeth asked, trying to blink away the stinging in her eyes.

“Because you are wise as well as smart. And if you are wise, you’ll know how to use your intelligence subtlety, like I have. If Luke makes bad decisions, or does things you don’t want him to, you can’t tell him no. You can’t argue with him. It’s not your place. You must take control of the situation, learn why he wants those things and then whisper suggestions in his ears. It works best in bed, though eventually you’ll learn to do it anytime. You must appeal to what he wants and then influence him to make the decisions you want him to make.”

Annabeth stared at her mother, not recognizing the woman she saw in front of her. “That sounds like manipulation,” she said.

“It is. But for women in our world, this is the only power we have. You’re strong spirited, my dear Annabeth, and this is the only way you’ll ever be happy.”

Annabeth couldn't wrap her head around it. “But...weren’t you happy with my father?”

A shadow passed over her mother’s eyes. “I married him for love, yes. But when he died, so did the part of me that sought happiness through love. I married your stepfather for the wealth and privilege that came with him - through him, I could do so much more. I could give you the best life possible. I could be active in the world, make a real difference, even if he’s credited with all the glory. I’ve found a new kind of happiness, Annabeth. Most of all, I’m happy that you can marry a man who will give you both kinds of happiness.”

Annabeth dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. She still didn’t believe everything her mother said - Luke knows her, he knows how smart she is, and he’s not intimidated by it. He wouldn’t turn on her for it. But she did believe her mother about the rest of the world.

“Thank you, Mother,” she said, turning her hand over and threading her fingers through her mother’s. “Thank you for everything.”

Her mother had leaned over and pressed her lips to Annabeth’s forehead. “Now we must go. Your groom awaits you.”

Annabeth had followed her out to the carriage, which had taken them to Luke’s massive coastal estate, where the wedding is to be held. Now she steps out onto the grass and takes in the familiar surroundings. His gardens are right along the sea, not a mile from the bustling port of Chester. The day is warm, the sky blue and without clouds. 

The salty smell of the sea sends pangs of longing through Annabeth as she waits by her stepfather’s side for their cue. Her mother’s words from earlier are still ringing through her ears, but she pushes them back. This is the day she’s dreamed about for years; she’s not going to let anything ruin it.

Then the small fleet of ships with blood red sails appears out of the distant fog, sailing straight towards the port. At first no one realizes what they are. A few minutes later, Annabeth sees the flash of fire a millisecond before the BOOM of the first cannon rings out.

Her stepfather wraps his arms around her shoulder and turns her away. The wedding guests, many of whom are the lords and soldiers and rich merchants of the city, jump to their feet in surprise. Everyone rushes around, trying to get a good look at the battle. Drivers begin bringing forth the carriages, and ladies and their maids are sent off to the security of their castles and manors while the men head towards the battle.

Luke comes running out of the fray, wearing his military uniform. The wind runs through his short blond hair and the sun reflects off the long scar along the right side of his face - a long line from his eye to his jaw where he’d been caught by the tip of a bayonet while fighting the French a few years ago.

His bright blue eyes soften when he sees Annabeth. He rushes over to her and takes her hand.

“You’re all right?” he asks.

She smiles weakly. “It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”

Luke’s lips twist up in a smile. “Our bad luck has already hit.” He lifts the back of her hand to his mouth and kisses it lightly. “I must go. This is but a small delay.”

He and her stepfather wave over a carriage and climb in. Annabeth watches as the horses thunder away, down the dirt road leading towards the burning city. Her mother comes up behind her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“He’ll be back,” she assures Annabeth.

Neither of them realize that it’s the last time Annabeth will see him for a long time.

-

Annabeth insisted on waiting for Luke outside.

Her mother and Luke’s sat inside the manor house, chatting and coming up with a new wedding plan over tea and cakes. Annabeth had grown bored quickly, and excused herself to wait in the gardens.

The crashing waves of the ocean call to her as she sits on the carved wooden bench, bright greens and pinks and yellows surrounding her. She’s still wearing her wedding dress, the corset slowly suffocating her. Her hair has taken a bit of abuse from the heavy winds that have blown in and small strands float around her face, but her braids have at least stayed pulled back.

She spins a daisy around between her fingers. The cannons are still thundering in the distance, the wooden buildings and huts blazing. The crack of rifles sound here and there, just loud enough for her to pick up if she strains her ears.

She prays for Luke’s safety. He’s a decorated soldier, but he almost didn’t come back from France last time he went to war. Annabeth had stayed up every night and cried when his letters had ceased coming. She still remembers the relief she felt when she’d finally received another one, this time writing to tell her that he was finally coming home.

Annabeth strains her ears. She stands up quickly and runs out of the garden to the road. A familiar carriage being pulled by two horses she knows well thunders her way, kicking up a cloud of dust behind it. Her heart races in her chest.

Luke is back!

There’s a strange feeling in her gut, though. She glances past the carriage and sees the pirate ships still firing on the city. Why is Luke returning early? Is he...did he…?

Horrible thoughts crash into her mind. She frantically shoves the panic aside. No. There has to be a logical explanation for why he’s coming back early. She stands by the road, waiting impatiently for the carriage to reach her.

Annabeth is so focused on the carriage that she completely overlooks the driver - not that she ever paid much attention to the servant in the first place. The carriage pulls up right next to her, the horses neighing and stomping their feet agitatedly. Annabeth clasps her hands in front of her and bounces on the heels of her feet in anticipation.

The door opens. Her first thought is that Luke isn’t inside. Her second thought is -

“Pirates!” she screams, stumbling backwards. She turns and tries to run towards the house to warn her mother, but strong arms wrap around her from behind and pull her back.

“Now, I wouldn’t do that if I were ye,” a heavy voice breathes into her ear. She thrashes against the pirate’s grip, but it’s no use. He’s bigger than her and much stronger.

Annabeth counts three pirates inside the carriage, including the one holding her, and a fourth that hops down from the driver’s perch. She curses herself for not paying better attention. She’s had the luxury of not paying the servants any mind her entire life, but now she realizes how dangerous that kind of thinking is.

The pirate standing across from her runs his tongue over his rotted teeth. “This one’s good lookin’,” he says, reaching out and stroking her cheek. Annabeth yanks her head away, but he just laughs. “Better than any treasure we’d hope to find.”

“Let’s get ‘er back to the ship before any soldiers show up,” the third pirate says. “She ain’t worth nothin’ if we’re all dead.”

Annabeth screams and kicks wildly. The pirate holding her grunts and slaps his grimy hand over her mouth, silencing her. As they force her into the carriage, Annabeth catches a brief glimpse of the door to the manor opening. 

Not my mother, she cries inwardly. Oh, gods, don’t let them take my mother.

The pirates barely spare her mother and Luke’s any attention. “Too old,” one of them mutters as he climbs in the carriage and slams the door shut behind him. The driver cracks the whip and the carriage flies back towards the town.

The pirates rip a piece of fabric from the bottom of her dress and secure her hands together behind her back. They rip another piece to stuff in her mouth.

“That’ll shut ‘er up.”

Annabeth’s heart races with every hoofbeat. She tries to think of a way to escape, but her brain is too addled and panicked. She holds onto the hope that Luke will see his carriage being driven by pirates and realize what happened. She imagines him jumping into battle, slashing down the pirates with his sword and rescuing her. Maybe he’d kiss her in the middle of the chaos.

The carriage jolts to a halt. The sound of battle is deafening, fires roaring and guns firing and the metallic clash of swords ringing out. Annabeth hadn’t realized how loud the BOOM of the canons actually was until now. 

The door on the side opens and the pirates spill out, one grabbing her arm and pulling her out. A bullet whizzes an inch past her face and buries in the frame of the canon. Another bullet catches one of the pirates in the chest and he falls. The remaining three curse and pull out their own flintlock pistols, returning a few shots before hurrying down the docks.

Many of the planks are burnt to a crisp, and one pirate’s foot goes all the way through. He pulls himself back up with a lot of swearing and they run, ducking canonballs and muskets as they navigate through the smoke. Annabeth’s head rings.

She’d always imagined battle and fighting as a romantic, heroic thing; now she realizes that it’s the opposite. Battle is chaos and confusion. It isn’t about skill so much as luck. Even the bravest and toughest soldier can be downed by a stray bullet.

They step over the bodies of pirates and soldiers alike. Annabeth can’t help but scan the corpses as she passes, each time terrified that one could be Luke’s. She doesn’t see his blond hair, though, and soon the pirates are forcing her to take a seat in a small boat. Two of them take the oars and start rowing to the big ships while the third holds a knife to Annabeth’s throat, the other hand holding a cocked pistol.

At the side of one of the big boats, some pirates throw down a rope ladder. The pirate holding her captive throws her over his shoulder as he climbs. It’s humiliating, and Annabeth wishes the bullet had hit her earlier. Better to be dead than captured by pirates.

On the deck of the ship, she gets a good look over the harbor. Sporadic skirmishes are still in action here and there, but the main part of the fight is over. The entire harbor is on fire, flaming tendrils of orange and red and yellow reaching up into the sky and turning into smoky fingers clawing at the sun. Bodies lay scattered in pools of red here and there, limp arms clutching at fallen weapons. The pirates are slowly retreating, carting rowboats of food and gold and weapons and other spoils of war back towards the ships. Canons from on board covers their retreat.

The pirates that had captured her hold her on deck, their weapons out and ready to use. The pirates left aboard the ships help cart up the riches. When the last boats are up, the crew members raise the anchor and unfurl the sails, letting the wind take them away.

Annabeth is chafing at her bonds, trying to untie the knot around her wrists, when the biggest, scariest pirate she’s ever seen storms onto the deck, bellowing orders and insults. The crew scatters around him. Annabeth’s heart drops in her stomach.

The pirate catches her eye and approaches slowly. Somehow that scares her more than his yelling. He examines her with eyes so dark they’re almost black. She must be imagining it out of fear, but she swears his sockets have tiny flames burning inside of htem. His hair is cut close to his scalp, his face and hands a mess of old scars and fresh wounds. His belt holsters twin pistols on either side, and he holds a wicked sword in his hands, the metal curved, the tip sharp, and the length dripping with blood and gore. He wipes it along his thigh as he looks her over.

“What is this?” he rumbles.

“Cap - Captain Ares, sir,” the pirate holding her stutters, apparently as afraid of this man as Annabeth is. “We captured this girl outside the town limits.”

“We don’t take prisoners,” Captain Ares snaps. “You know this.”

“Normally, yes, sir,” one of the other pirates says, stepping forward. “But she’s rich, sir. Found her on a manor. Her family will pay handsomely for ‘er back.”

Ares’ cruel eyes hold Annabeth’s for a long minute that feels like eternity. Annabeth does her best to not cower; she has the feeling that acting brave and tough will keep her alive longer than playing the damsel in distress.

“Fine,” the captain grunts. “Send the letter. But make the price high. This is unnecessarily messy business. If you ever take a prisoner again…”

He trails off. The pirates gulp. Annabeth’s hands shake.

The captain turns back to the rest of his crew. “That was a good raid, you lot of maggots!” he shouts. “Tonight, we feast. And tomorrow, we sail for Tortuga!”

A cheer goes up among the crew. They begin sorting through their spoils. Annabeth watches for a few minutes until she’s tugged by the pirate holding her captive.

“Yer at our mercy now,” he growls, his stinking breath blowing across her face. “Ye better hope yer husband finds ya worth paying for.”

He drags her below deck before she can answer, throwing her into the brig and slamming the door shut with a metallic clang that rings through the darkness.

Annabeth curls up in a ball, trying to ignore the claustrophobia setting in. She tries to take a deep breath, but the air around her is stale and putrid, reeking of human waste and rotting straw. Her beautiful wedding dress is torn, stained, and ragged; her hair is falling out of her wedding braids in clumps around her; she can barely see through the oppressing darkness.

This is not how the best day of her life was supposed to go. Maybe she didn’t want to get married quite yet, but this is not the adventure that she wanted.

She’d do anything to be back in the safety of Luke’s arms.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence

**Chapter 2**

Three days.

That's how long it takes for Ares' ship, _Bloody Boar_ , to reach the pirate haven. Annabeth spends those three days locked up in the brig, her only company the scrawny rats that patter around in the mildewy hay. Luckily they keep their distance, though each day they creep slightly closer.

Twice a day the pirate who captured her, who she's taken to calling Scarface since the entire right side of his face is covered in a burn scar, brings her a small mug of watered down wine and two stale biscuits. These rations are nowhere near what her body is used to, and her stomach rumbles horrendously. Her favorite part of every day is when she falls asleep, because then both her fear and hunger pangs fade, at least for a few hours.

There are no windows in the brig, so she judges time by the meals and her sleep. The ship rocks back and forth endlessly, and she spends her waking hours reliving better days. She brings back memories of her first family - her father, her mother, and herself. Those were the best days of her life. She was too young to understand poverty and she'd never known anything but slight hunger, so her joy had been unshadowed. Looking back, she realizes that her life was a lot tougher than she remembers. She's been spoiled for the last twelve years, living in her stepfather's manor with servants doting on her day and night. She's never known hunger - not true hunger, at least.

Her second family gave her a good life as well. Her stepfather was always kind to her, if detached, she still had her mother, and of course she enjoyed the privilege that came with being wealthy. She met Luke and found a best friend and eventually husband (well - almost husband).

She holds the memories tight and they help the time pass. She knows that three days in a floating cell isn't the worst that could be happening to her right now, but it's still the worst thing that ever has happened to her.

On what she judges to be her third full day aboard the _Bloody Boar_ , Scarface comes down a third time. He has a short length of rope in his hands and the keys to the cell.

"Ready to stretch those legs of yers?" he asks, his tone taunting. Annabeth doesn't like what he's implying - even if she doesn't know exactly what he's saying.

She stands, her legs shaky from disuse, and he attaches his rope leash to her bound arms. He pushes her in front of him and forces her to climb up the ladders to the top deck.

Annabeth blinks against the bright sunlight. She judges it's around midafternoon by the position of the sun. The crewmembers are tying up the ship securely to the dock. Dozens of other pirate ships of varying sizes and even shapes are moored in either direction, flying different colors but always the black at the top. Crudely painted on names announce the ship's names: _Black Spirit_ , _Golden Chariot_ , _Devil's Oath_ , and more. Annabeth was just grateful she didn't see _Queen Anne's Revenge_ or _The Flying Dutchman_ among them. Although she was always told those were myths, she isn't quite sure she wants to test her luck.

Beyond the ships is the port of Tortuga. From her vantage on the ship's deck, she can see a sprawling city comprised of mismatched houses and shacks. The voices of a hundred shouting vendors and drunks rings out, carrying all the way to the ship. The streets are narrow cracked cobblestones, covered in a layer of dirt, grime, and what looks to be dried blood. Smoke curls up from the houses and drifts towards the sky.

"We're goin' down to get some prices on ya," Scarface growls near her ear. "See who's the highest bidder."

A jolt of panic runs through her. "I thought you were ransoming me?"

Scarface chuckles. "If yer family decides yer worth the price, we'll sell ya to 'em. If not…" His lips stretch over his rotting teeth in a cruel smile. "Then we'll return 'ere and get the best price."

Annabeth tries to keep her face from revealing her fear. She bunches her hands in her tattered skirts and focuses back on the pirate city.

This is going to be her best chance at escape. If the inner streets and alleyways are even half as busy as they appear from here, all she has to do is get the slip from her captors and she'll be able to hide. There's only problem - if she escapes from her captors, then there's a good chance someone else will pick her up. Someone even less respectful.

She doesn't have a choice. She has to try.

-

The tavern is bustling with activity. Annabeth sits squashed between Ares and Scarface at a table near the door. A few other crewmembers are squeezed onto the bench on the opposite side. The waitresses bring around platters of meat and mugs of ale which get sloshed out of the rim as the women expertly avoid the pinching fingers of the pirates.

A trio of musicians play sea shanties on the far side of the room, though Annabeth can hardly hear the music past the roar of the pirates' laughter and conversation. Men with a variety of wooden limbs and bandages and tattoos sit around, arm-wrestling, having drinking competitions, and slipping coins into the bosoms of the ladies who sit on their laps in return.

Annabeth is tempted to cover her ears. She's heard more curses in the past five minutes than she's heard in her entire life, not to mention all the crude jokes, mostly at women's expense. She cowers between the two hardened pirates surrounding her, though the two barely seem to pay her any attention.

Ares has the most beautiful woman Annabeth has ever seen on his lap. He's not paying her, and the woman actually seems to enjoy being around him - Annabeth is pretty good at telling when girls are faking amusement, and this woman doesn't seem to be - so she assumes it's his wife or girlfriend. Scarface loses a bet with a pirate across the table and slams his knife in the table angrily before forking over a handful of coins.

Annabeth listens, keeping her ear strained for any information that might be helpful. She knows she can't fight her way out, so she'll have to use her brains. As friendly as the pirates seem to be, she also senses an underlying tension, as if this whole place is a powder keg about to explode.

She hears Ares growl, a deep, shockingly scary sound. She looks over and sees that his eyes are fixated on a young man sitting by himself in the corner of the tavern.

The woman on his lap strokes his chest. "Oh, don't be like that," she purrs.

"I'm going to kill that punk," Ares says, his hands clenching into fists around his knife.

"Babe, you know I like him. He's so...interesting."

"Can I just smash his face a little?"

The woman laughs. "Of course not!"

Annabeth returns her glance to the man. He's one of the younger men here, maybe twenty years old. He has wavy black hair and a clean-shaven face. He sits quietly, his eyes scanning the room as if he's searching for something - or someone. He cradles a mug between his hands. His eyes pass over Ares and he scowls slightly. Then he makes eye contact with her. She's startled by how bright his sea-green eyes are. He holds her gaze for a minute before moving on.

Before she can stop herself, she says, "Who is he?"

Ares growls again. The woman in his lap laughs.

"That's Captain Jackson. He's so young and tragic. Isn't he so dashing?"

"I'll dash him through with my sword," Ares mumbles.

The woman doesn't seem bothered by his threats. "My dear Ares here had a run in with him a year ago. The kid embarrassed him. Total underdog story, but as you can imagine Ares took a hit to his rep. He's had to work extra hard the past few months to restore it."

"He was lucky. He won't be the next time we meet." Ares' knuckles are white where he's gripping his knife in his fist. "He shouldn't even be a captain. Gives a bad name to the rest of us."

Annabeth doesn't press her luck any further by asking more questions. Ares' hate for the young captain may eclipse his irritation at her for being nosy, but she won't press it any farther. Besides, she already has all the information she needs.

She silently thanks her mother for educating her and imparting her wisdom down.

"As the best pirate here, maybe you should demand them to remove him from the premises," Annabeth suggests. "You're definitely giving the tavern a lot more business than he is."

Ares glares at her, and a spike of fear moves through her, nearly immobilizing her, but after a moment his gaze softens slightly.

"You're right," he says. "I do spend a lot of time and money here. I'm their best patron!"

The woman on his lap rolls her eyes and sighs, as if she knows what's about to happen, but as she stands she winks at Annabeth.

"I'm going to go to the ladies' room, dear," she says. "Try not to get in too many fights while I'm gone."

She disappears into the crowd as Ares grabs a helpless waitress.

"I demand to speak with the owner!" he yells. She shakes slightly, but not nearly as much as Annabeth would have expected. Of course, the poor girl is probably used to dealing with pirates, so this may be a usual occurrence.

"The owner isn't around," the girl replies, shoving his arms off of her.

"Then who's in charge?" Ares roars. "I demand to speak with him!"

The tavern falls silent. Even the musicians have stopped playing. Everyone is watching the confrontation. The young captain in the corner has a slight smirk on his face as he watches.

"Ey, what makes ye think yer so special?" another pirates yells, standing. "Jus' sit back down."

Ares turns his glowering eyes to the man. "What makes me special?" he asks, his voice eerily cold. With a flash, the knife that was buried in the table is now buried in the man's chest. He falls back, his eyes rolling up into his head.

Chaos ensues. The crewmates of the man Ares had just killed yell and charge at him. Ares' men scream back and pick up their weapons. All the other drunk pirates get excited and join in the fray. Annabeth ducks under the table as the sound of screaming, gunshots, swords, and shattered bottles fills the air. The musicians begin playing a lively, upbeat song while ducking bottles and bullets.

Annabeth crawls from beneath one table to the next, trying to reach the door. She's just about to climb to her feet and make a run for it when a hand wraps around her ankle. With a cry, she's pulled back, her skin skidding across the ale and blood-soaked floor, tiny shards of glass digging into her forearms.

The hand around her ankle suddenly releases. Annabeth tugs her leg to her body and looks back. She sees the young captain standing over the slumped body of a pirate with a huge welt on his forehead. The man is holding a long bronze sword in his hand. He steps over the body of the pirate towards her and offers his free hand.

"Let's get out of here," he suggests.

Annabeth stares at his hand. "Why?"

He rolls his eyes. "Any minute now Ares is going to find me, and I highly doubt I'm going to get lucky against him a second time. If you want to be here when he returns, then by all means stay."

Annabeth meant, _Why did you save me?_ but she doesn't stop to clarify. She raises her bound hands and the captain slices through the rope with the tip of his sword, careful not to nick her skin. Then he pulls her to her feet and they sprint out the door.

He's good with his sword. Without killing any of the pirates they cross, he uses the flat of his blade or the hilt to knock them away. He even slices a bottle in half before it hits them - Annabeth didn't even know swords could be sharp enough to do that. He navigates through the dark streets of Tortuga, illuminated only by torchlight, leading away from the tavern and towards the harbor. 

Annabeth follows him closely, occasionally looking back to see if they're being followed. A few eyes peer out of the shadows, but they don't dare approach. Still, Annabeth doesn't let down her guard until they've reached the docks. 

There are a few pirates loitering around, keeping guard over their ships, but they don't give them any trouble. The young captain leads her all the way down along the waterfront until they've reached the edge of the city. Only one boat is moored here, a rather small frigate without a figurehead. In the light of the portside lanterns, Annabeth vaguely sees the name _Pax_ painted on the side. 

"Pax? Doesn't that mean peace in Latin?" 

He nods. 

"Interesting name for a pirate ship." 

He grimaces. "The ship was a gift from my father...though gift is a generous term. He's big on me making my own path, forging my own destiny." 

"If you managed to beat Ares, then I'd say you're doing a pretty good job." 

He shrugs. "Or a bad job. He's not a good enemy to have. His cannons could tear this ship apart in minutes. I'm close to having enough money to get a better ship, though." He hesitates, as though unsure of what to say or do next. "Do you...what are your plans now?" 

Annabeth hadn't thought this far ahead. Her first goal was to escape Ares. Beyond that… 

"I'm trying to get back home," she tells him. Maybe it's a mistake to tell a strange pirate she's only known for about an hour, but somehow she trusts him. Annabeth is a logical person, but occasionally she gets gut instincts so strong that she can't ignore them. Now, she has the instinct that he's the only way she'll make it back to her family. "Ares' men captured me in Chester. It was - " Her voice cracks. "It was my wedding day." 

The young captain looks back over his ship. His sea green eyes seem to swirl as he thinks. When he turns back to her, she can't quite read his expression. 

"I'm running an errand for a man from Chester. In a few weeks I'll be heading back there to collect payment. If you want, you can sail with me. I know it's not ideal, but we'll be making some port stops along the way. You'll probably be able to catch a ride with a cargo ship heading to Chester. Worst case, like I said, I'll be heading back as soon as my errand is finished." 

It's as good a deal as she's going to get. She'd be foolish to turn it down. Still, she has the feeling that there's something he's not telling her. Another one of her instincts. 

"Why did you help me at the tavern?" she asks. "You could have just ran out on your own." 

He looks back over the water. "I hate Ares. He's a jerk." He turns back to her, a hint of a smile dancing along his lips. "Anything I can do to make his life worse, the better." 

Annabeth holds out her hand. "I'll take up your offer. Annabeth Chase." 

He lifts her hand to his lips. "Percy Jackson. Welcome aboard the _Pax_." 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence
> 
> Author's Note: I switched Annabeth and Percy's roles in this fic in comparison with the books (where Percy is the new kid and Annabeth is the one with all the experience) so Annabeth in this fic (at least in the beginning) is the one with the questions and not the answers. I also made Percy a little darker, since I'm obsessed with dark Percy and also because he's older and more mature in this than the books. Still, I hope I kept true enough to their characters!

**Chapter 3**

The _Pax_ has a small crew - even smaller than what Annabeth would expect for a ship of its size. She isn’t a sailing expert by any means, but she can’t imagine the tiny crew being big enough to keep the ship going. The one advantage of having such a small crew means that there’s a lot more space. Percy’s captain quarters are twice the size of the cabin on the _Bloody Boar_ , and the belowdecks has a decent amount of space between the hammocks.

In the hollow space of the hull, where the cargo would typically be held, is a space that looks like a workshop. A few benches and tables are covered in metal parts and tools. A lantern hanging from a hook in the ceiling illuminates the figure of a large guy hunched over one of the benches. At the sound of footsteps, he turns around. Annabeth’s jaw drops in surprise.

“This is Beckendorf. He keeps this piece of schist running.” Percy’s eyes gleam, as though he slipped in an inside joke. 

Annabeth swallows back her surprise. “Nice to meet you, Beckendorf.”

She’s never seen a man with such dark skin except in the slave markets - which she does her best to avoid. He’s also one of the biggest men she’s ever met - his sleeveless top reveals thick, muscular biceps the size of her head. He’s tall, towering over both her and Percy, and his face is covered in a thin sheen of sweat and grime.

Beckendorf smiles. Despite his hulking size, his eyes are warm and friendly. 

“This is Annabeth,” Percy says. “She’s from Chester. She’ll be a guest on board until she can find a ship back home.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Annabeth.” His voice rumbles, deeper than any voice she’s heard, even Ares. “Hopefully I can keep this ship afloat while you’re on board.”

She hopes he’s joking, but from the sorry state of the outside, she isn’t sure.

The next person Percy introduces her to is his first mate. He’s in the navigation room, pouring over a mess of maps, trying to measure out a path.

“This is Frank.” Percy leans in the doorway.

Frank is nearly as big as Beckendorf, with the same broad shoulders and muscles. When he raises his head, Annabeth can’t keep her mouth shut.

“A Chinaman?” she gasps.

Frank scowls. Percy winces.

“That’s kinda an offensive term. But yeah, Frank here is from China. He has ancestors from Rome and Greece, though. A well traveled guy.”

Annabeht covers her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean - I just haven’t met anyone from China before.”

Frank’s face relaxes. “It’s fine,” he says. “No one has.”

He pouts a little, which, with his bulky frame and severe haircut, actually makes him look kind of cute, like a puppy. Although Annabeth is sure he could hold his own in a fight, she gets the feeling that he’s actually quite peaceful.

“I’m Annabeth,” she says. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

Instead of taking her hand, he bows slightly. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Percy leads her out back onto the deck. Annabeth’s face is bright red and burning.

“I feel so bad,” she says. “I was just so surprised.”

Percy shrugs. “It happens a lot. Don’t worry about it. Frank’s a great guy. He doesn’t hold grudges.” 

A few other crew members linger around on board, some playing cards in the corner or a game with dice. Annabeth stands by the wheel, looking over the lower deck.

“Your crew is so….” She struggles for the word. “I’ve never seen such a mixture of foreigners together.”

“I’ve traveled around the world. I take the best sailors, regardless of where they come from or what they look like. Sailors in general aren't too hung up about a person's outward appearance - we're too busy trying to stay alive.”

“Is that why you can afford to have such a small crew?”

Percy frowns. “No. Though it certainly helps.” He taps his hands against the wheel. Annabeth realizes that since she’s met him, he hasn’t stopped moving, whether it’s tapping his fingers or swinging his sword or bouncing his leg. He has a kind of nervous energy around him, as though he’s always waiting for an attack. “Listen, Annabeth, I have to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?”

“My ship...my crew….we’re not normal pirates.”

“Yeah, I noticed the empty cargo hold.”

“That’s not it.” He tilts his head. “Well, yeah, but that’s not just it. We don’t raid cities or rob people - unless they’re bad people. We’re more specialized.”

Annabeth raises an eyebrow. “You’re a privateer?”

He shakes his head. “No, we’re pirates. But…” He frowns. “It’s hard to explain. You’ll see.”

She remembers the instinct she got earlier that told her he was hiding something. At least he’s being honest about it - even if he can’t seem to just straight up tell her what it is.

“Am I in danger?” she asks, half-teasing.

His eyes are anything but joking when they meet hers. “Yes.”

“Oh.”

“You should learn to use a sword. Where we’re going, they won’t distinguish between us and you. And even if you find a ship to take you back home, it would be a good idea for you to learn how to fight. This world isn’t friendly for anyone, especially women.”

Annabeth would agree with that statement. She may have escaped Ares by herself, but she wouldn’t have made it out of Tortuga without being kidnapped by someone else. She remembers all those eyes peering out of the shadows. The sight of Percy’s sword had kept them in the shadows.

“I have a knife,” she offers. She reaches down and under her tattered skirt, where the five-inch blade is strapped to her leg.

“I wouldn’t recommend using a knife. It doesn’t have a lot of reach and it can be tricky to wield well. I’m sure we can find you a sword - “

Annabeth has the edge of the knife at his throat, only about an inch from his skin. She twirls it between her fingers and steps back. “You were saying?”

Something that looks like admiration crosses his face. “Where'd you learn to use that?”

“My fiancé, Luke.” A twinge of sadness runs through her as she remembers the afternoons spent running around his manor. That was back when he had thought of her as a little sister. He knew the horrors of war firsthand and wanted her to be able to protect herself. He’d given her the knife with a promise.

“I’m surprised you didn’t cut up Ares yourself.”

“His men got the jump on me and kept me tied up. It’s a lot easier to fight if you know the enemy is coming.” Annabeth runs her fingertips along the flat of the blade. “I still have some room to learn.”

She notices Percy staring at her arms, and she subconsciously lowers them to her sides. “What?”

He nods at her forearms. “We have one more crewmember to meet before I show you to your cabin.”

Annabeth slips her knife back in it’s hidden sheath and tries to look at her arms in the dim light of the lanterns. She vaguely remembers being dragged along shards of glass in the tavern, but the adrenaline and excitement of the evening had numbed the pain. As soon as she notices it, the pain flares up.

He takes her down to the middle deck, to a brightly lit room. He knocks on the door. It opens a moment later, a tan guy with bright blond hair opening the door. Like all the crewmembers she’s met, he’s young. If Annabeth had to guess, she’s put him at nineteen or twenty.

“Hey, Will. Sorry to bother you so late. This is Annabeth. She had a run in with Ares’ crew on shore and needs some patching up.”

Will smiles at her with perfect teeth. Almost too perfect - the whiteness of them is blinding. She blinks and forces a smile back.

“Good to meet you, Annabeth. I’m Will Solace, the ship doctor. Come in.”

She thinks he’s pretty young to be a doctor, but Percy nods at her to follow. She enters a decent-sized room with a couple of cots, a bench with a water basin and some medical supplies, and a bucket - probably for other waste.

She takes a seat on a cot while Will gathers up a washcloth, the water basin, and some bandages. He works quickly, humming under his breath. He has to dig out a few shards of glass, but it doesn’t hurt very much.

“No stitches necessary, so you’re in luck. I don’t think it’s infected, but if you were in any building on Tortuga or around any of Ares’ crew, then you probably got in contact with some nasty stuff. Make sure to check on it every day.”

“She’ll be a guest aboard the ship for a while,” Percy says. “She’s from Chester.”

Will glances with surprise at Percy, then smiles cheerfully at Annabeth. “In that case, I’ll check up on it daily. Welcome to the crew.”

They bid him goodnight and Percy shows her to a small room on the second deck. “This is…” he trails off, then clears his throat. “This room is empty. You can use it.”

“Who used it before me?”

He looks uncomfortable, but he opens the door and grabs a lantern off the wall of the hallway. He sets it on a small desk pushed up against the one wall, illuminating a room with a hammock, the small desk, and a small stool. There’s just enough room for her to turn around in it.

“My brother,” he finally says. “Well, my half-brother.”

“What happened to him?”

“He went to work for my father.”

Annabeth senses there’s more to the story, but she doesn’t press. She remembers him telling her about the boat: _“The ship was a gift from my father...though gift is a generous term. He’s big on me making my own path, forging my own destiny.”_

“Anyway, the cabin’s yours. I’ll bring some blankets down for you. Sorry it’s not much.”

“Ares had me in the brig for three days, so this is a huge improvement.” Annabeth turns around in the room that is now hers. “Thank you, Captain Jackson.”

“Percy. Please.” He shakes his head. “I’m not a fan of formal titles.”

“Thank you, Percy.”

-

By the time Annabeth wakes, the ship is far out to sea, the island of Tortuga long gone. She had slept well, better than she had in days, the swinging of the hammock and the sound of the crashing waves lulling her to sleep. She had fallen asleep even before Percy had returned with the blankets, but she finds a small stack of them on the desk, along with a pile of fresh clothes and a basin with water.

She struggles to take off her wedding dress and all its layers, but when she finally tears off the corset she feels as though she can breathe again for the first time. Her skin has indent and marks where the torture device had cut into her for days without relief, but she simply massages the skin and hopes that it disappears.

She uses the water to wipe the grime off her face and body before pulling on the clothes he’d left for her. They’re male clothes, but she hadn’t expected anything else. The white shirt with wide sleeves is about two sizes two large, but she tucks the extra bits into the black pants, which actually fit well once she cinches it tightly around her waist with the belt. The shirt has a v-cut in the collar, which ends up dipping a little deeper than she’d like, but it’s not like her mother or anyone from her social circles are going to see her.

The boots are a little big, but she laces them up tightly. Her hair is the biggest challenge, but eventually she manages to undo the wedding updo entirely and comb it out through her fingers before wrapping up the unruly curls with a white ribbon wrapped off the end of her wedding dress. Percy had even included a sheath for her knife, which she straps to her belt.

She climbs up the ladder to the top deck, where the sparse crew is working. Beckendorf is repairing a rotting patch in the mast. Will is doing a check-up on a sailor with a bandage around his head. Frank is behind the wheel, steering the ship and calling out orders.

Annabeth steps around a pair of sailors scrubbing the deck. She heads towards Percy, who’s standing at the bow of the ship, the sea breeze rustling through his black hair. His white shirt billows in the wind and the sun reflects off the bronze sword hanging at his side.

Annabeth hadn’t gotten a good look last night, but now she sees that the hilt of his sword is an upside down T shape, with leather wrapped around the shaft. Most pirate swords have a more D shape to the hilt, made of gold and often embedded with expensive jewels. They also have much thinner blades, used as a show of wealth rather than as a functional tool.

She’d seen a few in the museum in London when her family went on a trip to visit her stepfather’s relatives. Most of what she knows about sailing and pirates she learned in that museum.

“Are you sure the real reason you don’t like being called Captain is because you don’t actually do any work?”

Percy turns, a half smile on his face. He looks like one of those Greek gods Annabeth has seen statues of in manor gardens or as centerpieces in palaces. It’s not just his appearance - although, she grudgingly admits, he is handsome - it’s his confidence, his presence. He looks like he was born to rule the seas from this very perch. There’s almost a glow to his skin.

“I am doing work,” he says. “I’m keeping this ship together.”

“Uh-huh. I thought you said that’s what Beckendorf does.”

He steps back, turning towards her. “You look a lot better. Sorry about the clothes - we don’t usually have female guests aboard.”

“They’re fine. Thank you.” She follows him as he makes a lap around the deck, checking up on everyone. She watches his interactions with his crew - like last night, he addresses everyone by name, asking them about their projects or how they spent the last couple days on Tortuga. He shares a smile and joke with everyone.

Annabeth met many of Luke’s friends and fellow soldiers at social events. She met captains (of the army), colonels, lieutenants, you name it. Every one of those men had a superiority complex. They talked down to Luke and the other soldiers, as if they were on another level of importance or worth. Luke only got respect because of his family and his wealth. The poorer soldiers weren’t even invited.

Even Ares - from her brief time aboard his ship, she saw how he lorded over his sailor, ruling with fear and brute strength.

She decides that Percy is the most un-pirate-like pirate ever.

“So what’s this errand that you’re running?” she asks.

“We have to collect a special item.”

“That’s awfully vague.”

“Our first stop is to visit an old friend of mine. She’ll be able to give us some more insight on what exactly we’ll be facing.”

Annabeth reads between the lines. “You don’t know what you’re after, do you?” she asks.

The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Not exactly. You know, you’re really smart.”

She shrugs, trying to act modest, though she feels as though she’s been handed quite the compliment. No one has ever told her she was smart before. It’s always “You’re so beautiful!” or “What a lovely young lady!” Not that Annabeth doesn’t appreciate those compliments, but it’s nice to get one on her brains rather than her face for once.

“My mother taught me,” she says. “Gave me an education. She told me that intelligence was the only power a woman has in this world.”

She realizes she’s said too much and presses her lips together. But Percy simply nods.

“A lot of sea lore says that women on ships is bad luck,” Percy says. “Apparently it angers the sea spirits and causes storms or whatever.” He rolls his eyes. “But of course naked women calm the seas, so that’s why so many ships have female figureheads. That’s a lot of schist, though.”

“It sounds like it is,” Annabeth agrees. “But how do you know for sure?”

“For one, I’ve never had a naked woman as a figurehead, and we’ve never had problems with storms,” he points out. “But I also know the sea.”

Annabeth remembers how she had found him standing at the bow of the ship that morning, looking as if he was born to be there. Once again she gets that feeling as though there’s something he’s not telling her, but she brushes it off.

“Your mother was right,” Percy says. “Intelligence is the only power a woman has in this world.”

“What do you mean, in _this_ world?”

His eyes sparkle. “Stick around and you’ll find out.”

“Why can’t you just tell me?”

“I told you last night. We’re not normal pirates.”

Annabeth feels frustrated by his vagueness, but she knows that he’s not going to reveal anymore. She’ll just have to stick around and see what happens.

“So, your friend,” she says, backtracking. “You said she has more information?”

“She sees more than most people. We’ll reach her place tomorrow. I’ll introduce you.”

Annabeth blinks. “You’re...taking me with you?”

He shrugs. “Why not? My friend doesn’t get many visitors.”

Percy climbs up the staircase to the top deck, where Frank is behind the wheel. He nods to his first mate and heads to the very back, where water is churning in their wake. Annabeth hadn’t realized how fast the ship was moving until she saw the wake.

“I can’t believe this little ship can go so fast,” she says, gripping the rails.

“That’s why I need Beckendorf. The ship can’t handle the speed. Without him, it would have fallen apart months ago.” Percy runs his hand along the railing. “I can’t wait until I get a proper ship.”

“What are you going to name it? Something more scary than peace, I hope.”

“I don’t know yet.” Percy turns and leans his back against the railing, gazing up at the blue flags flapping at the top of the mast. A horse jumping out of the seafoam is embroidered in the middle. “Names have power.”

“Like the Jolly Roger. Doesn’t sound dangerous, but it’s the flag pirates fly when they’re about to attack.”

“Exactly.” Percy glances over at her. “You seem to know a lot about pirates for a proper English lady.”

“Proper English ladies have a lot of access to books and more than enough time to read them.”

He raises an eyebrow. “And no one questioned you reading such books?”

“I pretended it was a history of the saints.” Annabeth curls a lock of hair around her finger absently. “I also went to a museum in London.”

“You want an adventure,” Percy accuses, but his tone is light. “You’ve always wanted more than just marriage and being a proper lady.”

“I do want to get married,” Annabeth protests. “I love Luke.” She remembers her hesitancy before her ceremony, the thoughts that swirled around her mind and clouded her joy. “But...I wasn’t ready.”

“If you stay on this ship, I promise you’ll get all the adventure you need to last you a lifetime.”

Annabeth catches his eye. “I’m holding you to that.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence

**Chapter 4**

Annabeth gets the chills even before they enter the cave.

Percy and Beckendorf row the small boat through the river. Annabeth sits in the middle. They’ve landed on a small island with a few towns, but they’re taking the boat past the towns and through a forest with a canopy so dense that the rays of sunlight barely reach the ground. It’s dark and eerie, and the presence of lit torches every five paces doesn’t reassure Annabeth in the least. In fact, the dancing shadows make it even more sinister.

The torches lead the way to a cave with two mooring posts in front of it. Percy ties up the boat and climbs onto the rock ledge. Beckendorf follows, and Percy holds out his hand for Annabeth. 

The initial entrance to the cave is exactly how Annabeth imagines a cave: wet, dripping with dangerous stalagmites, covered with creepy crawling creatures and sleeping bats.

“Your friend really knows how to live a life of luxury,” she remarks.

Percy reaches the last torch and then sticks his hand into the darkness, pulling back what Annabeth realizes is a curtain. Warm light emanates from within.

“She really does,” he agrees as she steps forward.

Annabeth catches her breath. The inner part of the cave doesn’t feel like a cave at all. A fire roars in a concave in the wall, a pot of boiling water over it. A bed with colorful blankets folded neatly on top sits in a corner, beautifully woven rugs are spread out along the floor, and a table covered in brushes and paints and papers sits against another wall.

But what catches Annabeth’s attention the most is the artwork. Every inch of open wall is covered in paintings and sketches. Annabeth sees quite a few with Percy in them. She drifts around the room, staring at them.

One has Percy, a few years younger, standing in front of a much more worn down _Pax_. Beckendorf is by his side, examining it.

Another one has Percy wielding his sword, an intense expression on his face. His opponent isn’t pictured, but Annabeth wouldn’t want to be on the other side of it.

A third picture has Percy dressed up like a gentleman, seated in a carriage next to a girl with fiery red hair. She’s also wearing a fancy dress and a petticoat. They’re laughing, their hands next to each other on the bench with only a hair’s breadth between them.

Annabeth turns back to the cave and almost jumps in surprise. The girl from that picture is standing in front of her now, watching Annabeth with a strange expression on her face.

“Annabeth,” Percy says, an easy smile on his face, “meet my friend Rachel.”

Rachel continues to stare at her. She looks a lot different than in the picture: her curly red hair is unruly, exploding around her head and over her shoulders. She has a paintbrush tucked in her ear, and a dried streak of blue across her chin. Her bright green eyes shine out from pale skin scattered with light freckles. She’s wearing trousers, a long-sleeved shirt, and an apron covered in splatters and swipes of different colored paints.

“I’ve seen you,” she says, tilting her head. “But I didn’t realize you’d be here so soon.”

Annabeth glances back at Percy, whose skin pales. “What do you mean, you’ve seen her?”

Rachel steps around them to her art table, where she begins to shuffle through the papers. She pulls out a piece and hands it to him silently.

Annabeth studies it over Percy’s shoulder. She sees herself and Percy standing back-to-back in the middle of ruins together, their weapons drawn and pointed out. Whatever or whoever they’re fighting is conveniently faded out.

“What is this?” she asks, her voice shaking.

“The future,” Rachel says. She turns back to the table and shuffles through some more pictures.

Annabeth half-turns to the painting of Percy and Rachel in the carriage. “So...all of these are the future?”

“That’s in the past,” Beckendorf says with a knowing smile. “Rachel gets visions from the past, present, and future.”

“I’m assuming this hasn’t happened yet, so it’s in the future.” Rachel returns with another picture. “But that’s not the only thing I saw.” Her eyes jump to Beckendorf, and she quickly looks away. “I foresee that your quest will be successful. You will find what you’re looking for.”

“That’s good news, right?” Percy says. 

“Beware, Perseus, son of the sea.” Rachel’s eyes glow with an unnatural light. Her voice changes, sounding like it’s being spoken by a dozen voices. Annabeth takes a step back, but Percy and Beckendorf don’t seem surprised. 

_The weapon you seek must not be returned  
You must reunite with the one you have spurned  
The power of the seas will lie in your hand  
For the fate of the world you must make your stand  
A fight against foes, family, and friends  
The betrayal of one may be the end_

The glow fades and Rachel stumbles back. Percy steps forward and grabs her arm, helping her over to the bed. He grabs a flask of water from the table and wraps her fingers around it. After the first swallow, she seems to recover.

Annabeth is rooted in place with shock. She finally manages to put together a coherent sentence: “What was that?”

“Rachel is an oracle,” Beckendorf says, staring at a picture on the wall of a ship exploding at sea. “Like I said, she gets visions.”

“That wasn’t a vision. That was...almost like a prophecy.”

“I get both,” Rachel says, sitting up and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Prophecies are for quests, like the one Percy is going on now. Visions come to me in dreams.”

Annabeth’s mind is swirling, working in overdrive. She feels as though she’s been given pieces of a puzzle, but she’s still missing some vital ones to solve it. Whatever the case, this is definitely what Percy meant when he said he wasn’t a normal pirate.

Annabeth has heard myths of pirates searching for hidden treasure, but she’s never heard of pirates questing for...what did Rachel say? Some sort of weapon?

Percy’s face looks troubled as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed by Rachel. “My client didn’t give me much information about what I was looking for. He said something about going back in time to find it. I don’t know what that means.”

Rachel points to the painting on table with Percy and Annabeth standing back-to-back fighting. “I suspect that means you’ll find your answers at a ruin. Ancient ruins, most likely. Did he say anything else?”

“Yeah, something about it being part of my blood.”

“Baelo Claudia. It’s the ruins of a Roman city in southern Spain. There was a temple to the Olympians there, as well as a salt factory.”

Percy stands, his hand fidgeting around the hilt of his sword. “Thank you, Rachel. It was good to see you again.”

She smiles. “You’re always welcome, Percy.” She glances over at Annabeth. “Give me a moment,” she says, and ducks behind another curtain by the bed. She returns a minute later with a stack of clothes in her arms, which she offers to Annabeth. “Here. I can tell that Percy doesn’t keep women’s clothing around.”

Despite her spinning head, Annabeth offers the other girl a smile. “Thank you.”

“May the gods be with you on your journey.” Rachel’s eyes flicker back to Beckendorf. “And...remember to take advantage of every moment. In case things go wrong.”

Annabeth doesn’t like the implication there - especially since she’s a Seer - but they all nod goodbye as they exit. Annabeth freezes right before the curtain.

Hanging at eye level on the wall by the curtain is a painting of her and Luke. They’re standing on a ship together, smiling at each other as if they haven’t seen one another in weeks. Annabeth is wearing a sleeveless blue dress in a style she’s only ever seen before in classical paintings.

“Is that your finacé?” Percy asks, peering over her shoulder.

“Yes,” Annabeth whispers.

“It looks like you guys will end up reuniting after all.”

“So it does.”

She stares at the painting for another minute. She can tell that it’s her in the picture, but there’s something different about her that she just can’t place.

She could stare at it for hours, but instead she turns away and steps out of the cave.

-

Back at the ship, Percy, Beckendorf, Frank, Will, and Annabeth stand around the table in the navigation room. Percy repeats the story of their visit with the oracle and the prophecy.

“Your client just asked you to retrieve a weapon that you had to go back in time to find and that it was a part of your blood?” Will raises an eyebrow. “That seems awfully vague and kind of shady.”

“That’s how it usually is in this business.” Percy rubs his face with a hand. “And the reward was enough for my choice of ship. We could have our own fleet if we wanted.”

“If he’s willing to pay you that much for this object, then don’t you think that maybe it isn’t a good idea to give it to him?” Annabeth asks. “Obviously it’s extremely valuable.”

Frank tips his head towards her. “She has a point.”

“The prophecy says that it’s a weapon. I definitely don’t think we should give it to just anyone. At least let me take a look at it first, see how dangerous it is,” Beckendorf says.

“ _The weapon you seek must not be returned_. Does that mean returned to the client or returned to the original owner?” Will glances around the table, but no one has an answer. “And who have you spurned that you must reunite with?”

Percy’s eyes are stormy, like a hurricane or a tsunami. “I’ll deal with it when the time comes,” he says, his tone closing discussion on that particular line.

“ _The power of the seas will lie in your hand / For the fate of the world you must make your stand._ Those lines sound like they go together. I would ask if the power of the seas could somehow be the weapon, but that’s impossible.” Annabeth frowns at the implication. “No one person can control the seas.”

Beckendorf glances over at Percy. “Is it possible? Is the tri - ”

Percy shakes his head. “No. I would know. I’d be able to sense that.”

Annabeth wants to ask what they’re talking about, but she has the feeling Percy would give her one of his “it’s too hard to explain” excuses. This is a mystery she’ll have to unravel for herself.

“ _Fate of the world_ sounds pretty strong. I’m voting that if we find this weapon, we don’t sell it,” Frank says.

“I’m more concerned about the last two lines.” Percy’s eyes darken like the skies before a hurricane. “ _A fight against foes, family, and friends / The betrayal of one may be the end_.”

Annabeth remembers the way Percy acted last night when he talked about his brother. Was there something more to the story than just his brother going to work for his father? Did he and Percy have a falling out?

And what had Percy said about his father? That he expected Percy to make his own path. Was there bad blood between the two of them? Could that be the betrayal the prophecy is talking about?

“It doesn’t matter,” Percy finally says, setting his fist on the table. “Prophecies are never clear. Usually they don’t make sense until it’s too late. We should focus on getting to Spain and finding those ruins. Rachel said there’d be information about the weapon there.”

Frank nods. “I’ll set the course right away.”

“Making a stand and fighting people sounds like there’s going to be a lot of injuries. I’d better go take inventory of the infirmary.” Will follows Frank out the doorway.

Beckendorf makes a comment about repairing some cannons and disappears, leaving just Percy and Annabeth. She watches the former carefully as he stares at the scattered maps on the table.

“Are your quests usually this difficult?” she asks.

He raises weary eyes to meet hers. “Always.”

“So there’s nothing to worry about, right?” Her voice sounds false even to her.

“This one is...personal.” He traces his finger along the coastline of Spain. 

“Family issues?”

His lips twist into a wry smile. “You could say that.”

Annabeth isn’t quite sure how to respond to that. She’s been fortunate to have a relatively uncomplicated family. Sure, she’s still sad about her dad’s death, but she never really blamed her mother for remarrying. It’s what society expects of a woman. And her stepfather has been good to them, so she can’t complain about him.

They stand in silence for another minute before Annabeth begins to feel awkward. Obviously he’s not in the mood for conversation right now. She steps out onto the deck, hoping the fresh air can stimulate her brain.

She thinks about what she knows of this crew and Percy. She has the feeling she’s still missing some vital pieces of information, though. Then she thinks about Luke and her mother. How are they feeling right now? Is Luke searching for her? Did Ares ever send that ransom note? Do they think she’s dead?

As much as she hates to admit it, she doesn’t really miss them. Not yet, at least. She missed them dearly aboard Ares’ ship, when she was thrown unceremoniously into the brig, but now that she’s on Percy’s ship with complete freedom and in the midst of an exciting - if dangerous - adventure, she finds that she barely thinks of them. Not that there was much to think about from her former life.

It hasn’t even been a week since she was kidnapped, though, so maybe she just needs more time for it to really settle in. She’ll probably be desperately homesick by the time she’s finally sailing back.

At least she knows she’s going to see Luke again. That painting in Rachel’s cave had been so realistic. She’d drawn Luke and Annabeth as if she’d seen them in person before - even though she hadn’t. Somehow she’d even managed to perfect Luke’s mannerisms.

Rachel, the oracle. Annabeth settles her thoughts on the girl. Seeing the future isn’t a gift Annabeth even thought was possible. And yet, the confidence with which Rachel spoke and those startlingly lifelike paintings in her cave had convinced Annabeth without a doubt that the girl could see the future.

If there are people who can see the future, then what else could there be? Annabeth had said that it wasn’t possible for there to be a weapon with the power of the sea, but what if there is?

What if her entire notion of reality is wrong?

It’s easy to pretend that myths don’t exist when you’re a high society lady in England. But that’s not who or where she is now. Maybe there’s a different reality, a different world on the sea. Maybe myths do exist here.

_“We’re not...normal pirates.”_

Annabeth has the feeling she’s going to have her entire world view turned upside down by the time she returns home.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence
> 
> Author's Note: Apologies for the late update. I have completely lost track of the days. Fun story about this chapter: I actually went to Baelo Claudia last summer with my Spanish friend and her family when I living in Europe (I'm American) and admission is free if you're a citizen of the EU but you have to pay if you're a foreigner, but my friend's mom made up this lavish story to the guy at the ticket booth about how they adopted me and my paperwork just hadn't gone through and either he believed her or he just didn't have the energy to make a big deal about it because he let me in for free. Anyways, it's one of my favorite places in Spain and it's unbelievably gorgeous, 10/10 would recommend to visit if you ever get the chance

**Chapter 5**

It takes the _Pax_ two weeks to sail to the southern tip of Spain. 

Annabeth spends her days moving among the crew, learning as much about sailing as possible. Beckendorf walks her through his repairs, explaining why and how the damages happen and the different options he has for repairs. He also shows her some of his projects in progress down in his work area.

Some days she tags along with Will, who explains all the medicines and tools in the infirmary. Annabeth even works as his assistant when a mild sickness takes a brief run through the crew. He also teaches her basic survival first aid, though fortunately they haven’t had to practice it on anyone. 

Will is easy to talk to, and he tells his story as they reorganize the infirmary. His wealthy parents always made sure he had the best tutors growing up. He went to an established university by the age of sixteen and studied for two years. He was a prodigy and got kicked out because he challenged some of his professors on their medical practices. He jumped around from ship to ship until he ended up here.

“I’ve only been on this ship for a few months,” he admits. “But Percy’s the best captain I’ve ever served under. He trusts me to do my job and doesn’t blame me if the results are less than desirable.”

Annabeth also spends time in the navigation room with Frank, who teaches her the math behind setting routes and calculating speed, as well as how to use the stars for position.

“Any good captain or first mate worth his salt knows this,” he tells her. “I don’t really need to do it, though. Percy has perfect bearings.”

“Perfect bearings?”

“He knows exactly where we are at any given time. He also knows exactly how fast we’re going and how long it will take us to get to our destination.”

“Is that a thing?” Annabeth asks. “Like photographic memory? Or a perfect sense of direction?”

Frank shrugs. “I’ve never heard of anyone else with his abilities.”

“How do you know he’s not making it up?”

“I do the math myself just in case and it always checks out. He hasn’t been wrong yet.”

Percy himself is distant the whole two weeks. He stands at the bow of the ship looking over the waves with a troubled expression on his face. Annabeth knows he’s a lot more worried about the prophecy than he admitted.

He does occasionally step away from his perch to interact with the crew. One night, Will and a couple other sailors have a music night, and he stands at the edge of the audience, watching fondly as everyone sings raucously. Annabeth picks up on the lyrics quickly, singing things no proper lady should ever sing. The whole crew gets a kick out of it, and she loves being part of it.

Some days Percy and Frank gather at the top deck and have hushed conversations. From time to time, Beckendorf joins them.

Most surprisingly is Percy's new morning routine. He forces Annabeth to train with him for an hour as the sun is rising. He’s a good teacher, and she builds her knife skills from the basics Luke had taught her. 

They make port once in Lisbon, Portugal, to replenish supplies. Annabeth tags along with Will as they scour the city for some herbs and medicines he’s running low on. Since Annabeth doesn’t have any proper dresses and she doesn’t want to draw too much attention to herself, she pulls her hair up in a bandana and plays as a boy. She and Will have the same tan skin and blonde hair, so they easily pass as cousins.

The morning when Baelo Claudia comes into view, she’s reading a book Frank loaned her by a Chinese philosopher. The translation is rough at best, but it’s still fascinating.

They anchor the ship a half mile out and she, Percy, and Frank take a small rowboat to the beach. The sand is bright white and fine, the softest sand Annabeth has ever touched. The sun is shining brightly, beating down upon them. Annabeth wishes she had brought a hat instead of a bandana. Facing the south, she can see the coast of Africa in the distance; when the sun hits just right, she can even see the vague silhouettes of huts and ships along the coast.

The beach makes a long curve, the western side jutting out into the sea in a pile of rocks covered with trees. The trees are such a vibrant green and so dense that they look more like a painting than real objects. Directly ahead of them is a field with wild, tall grass with rocks and boulders sticking up.

No, not rocks and boulders; ruins.

Most of the ruins are barely sticking out of the ground, buried by years of sand deposits. Most prominent is what appears to be a wall and a few circular shaped ruins right on the edge of the beach. A hundred meters beyond them is a rectangular shape composed of well-preserved pillars. In the very middle of them is a statue on a pedestal. Several other pedestals with half or completely destroyed pedestals are arranged inside.

Percy sets his hands on the first wall they come across. His brow furrows. 

“What is it?” Frank asks, his hand wrapping around his bow. He has a quiver of arrows and a golden-tipped spear strapped to his back. Annabeth wonders at his choice of old-fashioned weapons, but she doesn’t ask.

“I can feel traces of salt on these ruins. Not just sea spray - this salt is more concentrated.”

“This must be the salt factory Rachel mentioned,” Annabeth says. She forges ahead of the boys, stepping around half-buried ruins and heading straight for the standing pedestals.

There’s a slight incline, and when Ananbeth reaches the top, she sees a huge semi-circular shaped ruin another hundred meters ahead of them. That must be the amphitheater. Which would make this…

“A temple,” Percy says, catching up to her. They stand at the entrance to what once was the center of a small Roman city. “To the gods.”

Annabeth had read about Roman mythologies and had seen pictures of their temples, but she never imagined that she would be standing in one, especially one as well-preserved as this. She also finds it crazy that the Romans managed to expand this far - farther, even, all the way to her home country of England.

Percy walks straight down the middle, passing the various pedestals until he stands in front of the one intact statue. Annabeth counts eleven pedestals as she follows him.

“One for each of the Olympians,” Percy says. He’s paused in front of the one on the left-hand side of the head statue. Nothing is left but a pedestal and a pair of feet, but he stares up as if he can see the phantom of it.

“This is Jupiter, king of the gods,” Frank says, staring up at the intact statue. “Of course his would survive.”

Percy is still staring at the broken one, although Annabeth can’t fathom what’s so interesting about a pair of eroded feet.

“So...what are we looking for, exactly?”

“I’m not sure,” Percy admits. He kneels down and runs his fingers around the crevices of the statue. “But if it’s anywhere, it will be here.”

“Any reason for that statue in particular?”

“It was Poseidon, god of the sea.” 

Annabeth remembers what Rachel had called Percy when her eyes had glowed green: _Perseus, son of the sea._ And Percy had told her that it was “something about it being part of my blood”.

So Percy’s a pirate who considers the sea part of his blood. Annabeth would hazard a guess that he’s an orphan, except he had mentioned his father a few times - though there had always been a hesitation, so it seems like his father is distant to the point of basically not being in his life.

Maybe that’s why he sounded bitter when he spoke of his brother going to work for his father. Perhaps his brother is more favored than he is, and he’s jealous.

Annabeth is about to offer to check the salt mines when a chunk of the statue base crumbles away, revealing a small chamber. Percy sticks his first two fingers in and carefully pulls out an ancient scroll.

He gingerly unravels it. Faded black ink creates the outline of a three-pointed weapon with a long handle. There are words written in a strange alphabet which Annabeth doesn’t know, but she guesses is Ancient Greek.

“What is it?” she asks.

Percy frowns. “Poseidon’s trident. The source of the power of the sea.”

Annabeth raises an eyebrow, thinking of the line of the prophecy. “Power of the sea?”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s impossible. This can’t be the weapon we’re looking for.”

“Because it doesn’t exist?”

He looks up at her, surprised. “I didn’t say that it doesn’t exist.”

Before she can ask him what he means by that, Frank comes running down the hill from where he’d been scouting ahead.

“We need to go,” he breathes heavily. “Now.”

Percy rolls up the scroll and tucks it in his waistband. His hand drifts to the hilt of his sword. “What is it?”

Frank gulps. “I’m not sure exactly, and I don’t want to get a closer look.”

Annabeth wonders what could scare a guy like Frank, but she doesn’t want to hang around to see for herself. She follows the boys as they begin to run down the hill back toward the beach.

Halfway to the beach, she glances behind her as she runs. Her next step sends her straight into the ground as her foot sinks into a hole hidden by the tall grass. She curses as she climbs back to her feet. Both Percy and Frank run back, Percy with his sword in his hand and Frank holding a notched arrow loosely in his bow.

“You okay?” Percy asks, his eyes darting around.

“I’m fine.” Annabeth winces as she puts weight on her ankle. It doesn’t hurt enough for her to think it’s broken, but she isn’t about to try jumping around on it, either. “Let’s get out of here.”

Frank swallows. “Too late for that.”

A few meters away, where the ruins of the salt mines are, strange blob-like creatures covered in white crystals rise up out of the grass. Behind them, the temple with the pedestals is overrun by more of the same monsters. They raise stubby arms out, and deadly-looking crystal weapons grow out of their grip.

Annabeth blinks several times, trying to make sure she’s not imagining the horror in front of her. She even twists her ankle enough for sharp pain to run through her body, but those terrible things are still there.

“What...are those?” she asks, her voice shaking. She pulls out her knife and holds it in front of her, but the weapon is shaking in her grip.

“Those are _álas matódi_ \- salt spirits,” Percy answers. “I’ve heard of them, but in all my time at sea I’ve never encountered them.”

“Another monster you can check off your list,” Frank mutters. His eyes scan the situation, getting a read on the number of enemies and an idea of the layout of the land. “Do you think they can climb?”

“I sincerely hope not,” Percy replies.

“And I hope you’re right, because my whole plan depends on that.” Frank slips his arrow back in the quiver and pulls out his spear instead. “I’m going to charge out to that wall ahead and climb up. I should have a clear line of sight to pick them off with my arrows from there. Hopefully I can draw them away from you two so you guys can make a run for the ship.”

“Good plan, but instead of running for the ship, Annabeth and I will cut them down as they try to chase you. If you can draw enough of them away for us to take out of the ones surrounding us, we should be able to handle the numbers.”

Frank nods once. “Got it.”

The salt spirits are closing in. Frank swings his spear around expertly and then takes off running, vaulting clear over the heads of the creatures. They growl - Annabeth never thought salt could growl - and begin slithering his way as he runs for the ruins of the wall at the edge of the beach. The group behind them from the temple takes their place, closing in around her and Percy.

“Remember what we’ve been practicing,” Percy says. 

“I always imagined my enemy would be human,” she shoots back, trying to keep her voice from betraying her fear.

“Then this should be easier.”

Percy steps forward and swings his sword, cutting through the first salt figure. It explodes into regular-sized salt particles. He moves on to the next one.

Annabeth stands at his back. A salt monster stabs its crystal blade forward and she stops it an inch from her chest with the blade of her knife. She pushes back and then darts forward quickly, stabbing the creature in the shapeless face. It crumbles to salt dust.

The small victory boosts her confidence, and she acts more aggressively with the next salt spirit. It doesn’t stand a chance as she slices off half its blade and then slashes through its gut. With each kill she feels stronger.

The last creature disintegrates and she and Percy turn as one to check on Frank’s progress. He’s standing at the top of the wall, shooting his arrow and taking down one (or two or three) monsters with each shot, but he’s running out of arrows. And, as it turns out, the salt spirits _can_ climb. Three of them are slowly creeping up towards his space, and a mob of five of them are attempting to grab footholds at the bottom.

Annabeth and Percy sprint to his aid. They easily dispatch the few on the ground and Frank knocks out the three climbers. He lets the last one reach the top and then he kicks it solidly in the chest. It breaks apart mid-air.

In the distance, more of the creatures are rising. Frank swings down from the wall and they race to the beach, pushing out the boat and jumping in.

“If they can swim, I swear to the gods…” Percy mumbles, but the salt creatures either can’t swim or they don’t think the pirates are worth chasing because they fade back into the tall grass.

Annabeth doesn’t fully catch her breath until they’re back aboard the _Pax._

“What just happened?” she demands.

“Apparently the salt spirits are very protective of those ruins,” Percy replies, pulling the scroll back out.

“But how - what - ”

“That’s what I meant when I said we weren’t normal pirates. We don’t fight other pirates for their treasure or pillage cities. We go on quests for magic treasures and items.”

Annabeth tries to keep her cool, though her mind is actually exploding. “Magic?”

“How do you think Rachel can see the future? Did you think that prophecy was metaphorically talking about the power of the sea?” Percy shakes his head. “Magic is real and it’s all around us. People see what they believe, and most people don’t believe in magic, so they don’t see it. But if you look hard enough, you’ll find it.”

Somehow, Annabeth believes him. She doesn’t think he’s crazy, even though by all rights she should. Maybe the salt spirit attack sobered her up enough to have an open mind.

No wonder he didn’t want to try and explain this to her earlier.

“So all the myths and legends...they’re all real?”

Percy nods. “Most of them, yes. Most myths and legends are written by people who got glimpses of the reality of magic but didn’t fully understand it. The more myths, the more likely it’s real.”

“So…” Annabeth racks her brain for a few common ones. “What about mermaids?”

“Real.”

“Sea monsters?”

“A lot nastier than those salt spirits, and much more difficult to kill.”

“Faeries?”

“What kind do you want to know about? Nymphs? Naiads? _Aurae_?”

Her mind spins. “So what about religion? Which one is real?”

“They all are.”

“How is that possible?”

“As I said before, people interpret reality and magic differently. Different religions believe in many different gods, who simply appear in different ways and go by different names. Religions with one God believe that he can be in many places at once, which is how other religions interpret their many gods - or the other way around. People also pick and choose what they believe in based off their own experiences.”

“So when we were talking about the trident...it really does exist? A weapon, used by the god Poseidon, to control the seas?”

Percy nods. “I’ve seen it myself. Though if you ask Frank, he’d say it’s used by Neptune - he prefers the Roman names for the gods. And if you ask Raj - ” He nods towards a sailor who hails from India - “he’d call him Varuna. Itami over there would call him Suiten.”

Annabeth understands now. Different cultures interpret the same things in different ways and give them different names - but it’s all the same magic.

“But you said that it couldn’t be the trident.”

“The trident isn’t missing. If the trident was missing, word would get around. Symbols of the gods don’t just disappear.”

Percy heads into the navigation room and spreads out the parchment scroll on the table. He mutters to himself as he underlines the Ancient Greek with his fingers.

“You can read that?” Annabeth asks, watching him.

“Yeah,” he says distractedly. His forehead creases and he traces one line to the small circle at the base of the prongs. “Huh. I never realized there was something there before.” He straightens up as he moves to the side so she can get a good look. “See that little circle? It says it’s a pearl from the deepest part of the ocean.”

“What does that have to do with the weapon mentioned in the prophecy.”

“Nothing. I don’t know.” Percy rubs his face. “I feel like we’re no closer than when we started.”

“So what do we do next?”

Percy exhales deeply, staring past her shoulder and out the open door. “We find someone who does know.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence

**Chapter 6**

“So do all monsters turn to salt when you destroy them?”

Annabeth steps back as Percy swings his sword at her. She side-steps and lunges in with her knife, aiming for his side, but he recovers quickly and blocks her blade.

“Usually they turn to golden dust, but I’ve seen a couple monsters turn to sand or clay.”

Annabeth ducks under a swing of his sword. “What kind of monsters have you fought?”

“Would you like the list in chronological or alphabetized order?”

She knocks away his blade. “That many?”

“The first monster I ever killed was half-man, half-bull. Have you ever heard the legend of the Minotaur?”

His blade stops an inch from her neck, but Annabeth isn’t paying attention to their sparring session anymore. She’s staring at him, her knife held loosely at her side.

“You fought the Minotaur?”

He lowers his sword and shrugs. “Why not? It was hunting me down. It - ” His voice catches. “It killed my mom. I still have the half of the horn that I sheared off in my cabin. Sometimes when you kill a monster, parts of it remain as a trophy. Like when I killed the Nemean Lion and its impenetrable hide remained as my spoil.”

“I thought your first monster was the Fury,” Beckdendorf says, sitting up on his heels and taking a reprieve from the railing he’s repairing. “The Minotaur was the second.”

Percy snaps his fingers. “Right. I almost forgot about her.”

“What’s a Fury?”

“And old bat/hag lady with wings and nasty talons. Works for the god of the Underworld. Hades, as he’s commonly known.”

Annabeth returns back a comment he made earlier. “You said the Minotaur was hunting you - why?”

“Some people smell good to monsters. The more you believe in the magic part of the world, the more dangerous it becomes. The Fury attacked me first, and after that incident I started to do more research into myths and legends and I paid more attention to the world around me. As I started to believe more, monsters became more aware of me.”

“So people who don’t believe - the monsters just ignore them?”

“For the most part. Although sometimes people get caught in the wrong place at the wrong time - I’m sure you’ve heard the legends of sirens and mermaids.”

“If the monsters ignore normal people, then why did the Minotaur kill your mother?”

Percy suddenly becomes very interested in his sword hilt. He picks at a few loose strings of leather coming unraveled. “My mother...she did believe in the myths. She saw the world for what it really was. She tried to protect me by hiding it from me, but some people...some people are drawn into this world. Some of us are born with great - and often tragic - destinies. No amount of ignorance can protect us forever.”

Monsters, gods, destinies...Annabeth starts putting the pieces together.

“So you’re like some sort of Ancient Greek hero. Like Odysseus, or Hercules, or Theseus.”

A wry smile spreads across his face. “I’m exactly like them,” he agrees.

“You said you saw the trident before - have you met Poseidon, then? Or any other gods?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Many of our quests are issued by gods or involve dealings with them. After a while, they just seem like jerks.”

The sky thunders. Annabeth looks up in surprise, for there are no storm clouds in sight. When she turns back to Percy, he’s glaring at the sky, as if challenging it to strike him down.

“If they’re gods, then why do they need you to run errands for them? Why can’t they just snap their fingers and have it done?”

“The gods have to abide by many ancient laws. That’s why they need heroes to do their work for them. But I don’t like the term hero - it’s over glorified. A hero is someone who makes a real difference in the world. We just fight battles that gods either can’t or are too lazy to fight themselves. That’s why we call ourselves pirates.”

“You kill monsters,” Annabeth points out. “I think that’s pretty heroic.”

“Is it? Did you feel heroic when those salt monsters attacked? Because when a monster attacks me, I just feel like I’m fighting for my life. There's nothing heroic about it. Besides, we don’t really kill monsters. Monsters can’t die, not permanently, at least. When you slash them to dust, they get sent to Tartarus, the deepest Hell, where they eventually reform and return to the world.”

“So...what’s the point of killing them?”

“Other than to stay alive another day?” Percy shrugs. “If I find out, I’ll tell you.”

Annabeth’s initial excitement at the idea of this quest is burning out quickly. She feels bad for Percy and his crew - they’re fighting a battle that they can’t win. At best, they survive all the monster attacks and die of natural causes. At worst, they could die any minute.

In the pirate museum in London, Annabeth had read that the average age of pirates is early twenties. Only a few weeks aboard Percy’s ship and she understands why. This is a life of adventure and glory, but it’s a short life.

Annabeth also realizes that she’s past the point of turning back. She’s seen the monsters. She believes in the tales. She’ll never be a regular person again. Maybe like Percy’s mother, she’ll live peacefully for a few decades before the monsters catch up, but at some point, they eventually, inevitably, will.

Can she even go back to her former life? Would she be putting Luke and her parents and everyone she knows in danger?

She decides not to worry about that now. Right now her worry is about staying alive. Learning how to use her dagger so she can protect herself against monsters is her most important task. Maybe if she gets good enough, she won’t have to worry about monsters attacking her - she can be like Percy and just kill anything that comes for her and her family.

“How long have you been doing this for?” she asks. “When did you kill your first monster?”

“I was twelve years old. I joined some other crews, met some great people - like Beckendorf, learned to fight and proved myself. My father gave me the _Pax_ when I was sixteen. That’s also when I met Frank.”

Since he was twelve. Annabeth was still playing with dolls when Percy began fighting for his life. How is she going to catch up to him in a few weeks?

She won’t. She’ll just have to work as hard and she can and learn as much as possible in the little time she has. When Annabeth agreed to join Percy on this quest, she was looking for a little excitement, not a whole new reality. She still intends to return to her old life one day.

She made a promise to Luke that she intends to fulfill.

-

They dock at a small harbor in Northern Africa. Annabeth once again pulls up her hair to pass as a man before she, Percy, and Beckendorf begin their search.

“Who are we looking for again?” Annabeth asks as she ducks under an awning.

“Nereus. He’s a son of the sea who has the gift of prophecy.”

“Like Rachel.”

“Not exactly.” Percy weaves through a few side streets, looking along the ground for something, though Annabeth isn’t sure what. “Nereus knows everything. Legend is, if you can catch him, he’ll answer one question.”

“So you’re going to ask him where this weapon is.”

“Exactly.” Percy finds a pile of rags and old clothing next to a homeless man. He pulls out a handful of coins and shows them to the man. “Can I have the jacket and a scarf?” 

Beckendorf translates. The man glances at the coins in his hand greedily, then looks at Percy like he’s crazy. When Percy’s expression doesn’t change, the man nods and waves his hand out. Percy takes the most ragged clothes he can find and then backtracks to the harbor, Annabeth and Beckendorf in tow.

“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” Annabeth asks, raising an eyebrow as Percy dons his new apparel.

“It’s to blend in. We’re not the first people who have tried to extort him.”

“Are you sure your smell won’t drive him away?”

Percy shrugs. “Apparently he’s supposed to smell even worse, so I think I’ll be fine.”

Beckendorf picks off a clump of fuzz and who-knows-what from the shoulder of the jacket. “You know I have your back, Percy...which should tell you how much I care about you because these clothes are absolutely disgusting.”

Percy leads them along the beach. Annabeth and Beckendorf hang back a ways, letting him get a good lead.

“You know, he doesn’t make a bad beggar,” she says, her hand on her hip.

Beckendorf gives her a sideways look. “You aren’t going to pass as a man if you stand like a girl.”

Annabeth drops her hand and hunches over her shoulders. “Better?”

Beckendorf is looking over her shoulder now, where Percy is slowly approaching an old man sunning himself. He’s dressed even worse than Percy, his white beard wild and haggard and his clothes barely more than threads held together by grime and seaweed. He smiles contentedly as he shifts in his sleep.

“That man knows everything...and he just lays around in the sun? What a waste of a gift.”

“There are a lot of crappy people in this world,” Beckendorf agrees. “But the gift of prophecy...well, I think calling it a gift is a stretch. It’s more like a curse.”

Before Annabeth can ask him what he means, Percy jumps the man. She and Beckendorf exchange glances before sprinting through the sand to catch up.

Percy and the man roll across the sand. For an old, fat guy, Nereus seems awfully strong. He slams Percy’s head against the ground and waddles to his feet. Before he can take two strides, Percy leaps up and tackles him again, plowing a shallow trough through the sand.

Annabeth and Beckendorf skid to a stop two meters away.

“I don’t have any money!” the man cries in English. “Please, help!”

“I’m not here for money,” Percy grumbles, his face red with strain. “I’m here for information!”

The old man wails. “Why do heroes always pick on me!”

“Because you know everything!”

They roll into the surf. Percy’s eyes widen. “Oh, no! Not the water!”

Nereus grins in triumph and rolls them both into the water until they’re both submerged. Annabeth runs to the edge of the surf to try and find them, but they’ve disappeared under the waves.

“He’s such an idiot!” she exclaims, unable to hold in her nervous energy. How long has he been under now? A minute? Two?

“Is he?” Beckendorf asks, a mysterious gleam in his eyes. He stands with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting patiently.

Annabeth immediately picks up that he knows something she doesn’t, but she has no idea what. She paces along the beach, her eyes scanning the horizon.

Suddenly, about a hundred meters out to sea, a killer whale bursts out of the water, Percy straddling its back and holding onto its dorsal fin. He waves and grins at them before disappearing back under the waves.

“Was that - did he - what?”

Beckendorf watches the spot with interest. “Huh. Nereus must be a shape-shifter. That’s a gift some descendents of the sea have.”

A large wave washes their way and Percy emerges from it, hauling Nereus by the collar of his shirt. He dumps him on the beach at Annabeth and Beckendorf’s feet. Annabeth inspects him for signs of injury, but Percy isn’t even breathing hard.

In fact, he’s not even wet.

Annabeth isn’t sure what shocks her more: the shape-shifting old man or Percy walking out of the sea without a water droplet on his skin.

“Wonderful,” Nereus grumbles, staring up at them. “An audience for my humiliation. So, what do you want? The normal deal? I answer a question and you let me go?”

“Sounds reasonable to me.” Percy crosses his arms. “We’re looking for weapon with the power of the seas.” He digs into his pocket and unfolds the parchment they’d found in Baelo Claudia. “Our source told us that this would give us a hint, but I know it isn’t the trident. So what else could be the weapon?”

Nereus examines the parchment and grins, showing off a row of crooked, rotten teeth. Annabeth notices for the first time how terrible he smells - like dead fish lying in the sun for weeks. It’s hard for her to avoid plugging her nose.

“That’s easy,” he says. “The answer is right there.”

“It’s not the trident,” Percy repeats.

Nereus glances at the water longingly. “We had a deal. I gave you your answer.”

Percy raises an eyebrow. “You want to try and make a break for the sea?” His hand drifts to the hilt of his sword, Nereus’ eyes tracking the movement carefully. “I’m not here for tricks. I want a clear answer.”

Nereus sighs. “Fine. The trident isn’t the source of the power of the seas - it’s just a harness to focus that power. The source is kept in the trident, but it can be removed.” He taps the parchment aggressively with his finger. “Read it again, fish boy. _Now_ our deal is complete.”

This time he’s too quick for Percy. He morphs into a goldfish and leaps into the sea as the tide is washing back out. Percy watches the water recede without a word, but his eyes swirl like a hurricane.

“Well, that was a waste of time,” he mumbles, shoving the parchment into his pocket. He stripes off his ratty clothes and dumps them on the sand. “Let’s get back to the ship.”

Annabeth’s mind spins as they trek back to the dock where the ship is harbored. She turns over Nereus’ words in her head, as well as what Percy had said when they first got the parchment.

The barest hint of an idea begins taking shape. She catches Percy as he stalks up to Frank to report their encounter.

“I don’t think he was tricking us,” she says, the pieces falling into place. “Pull out the parchment.”

He unrolls it and holds it in front of them. “I just see the trident.”

“Which Nereus said is just a way to channel the energy. But he said the source was kept inside the trident.” Annabeth points to the small circle at the base of the prongs. “Did you say that was a pearl?”

“Yeah. From the deepest part of the ocean.”

Annabeth steps back and watches him, waiting for him to make the same connection she did. It takes him a few seconds, but slowly realization dawns on his face. His eyes widen, just like they did when he had the idea to manipulate Nereus into rolling them into the water.

“You think the pearl is the source of power?”

“Nereus said it could be removed. You said the trident wasn’t missing, so maybe the pearl is. Poseidon or whatever sea god either replaced it with a fake one or covered it up so that no one would realize that he lost the source of power for his weapon.”

“But he isn’t my client…” Percy’s eyes widen even further. “I’m being played,” he says, slowly at first and then with a rush of anger. “I’m being used! My client wants that power for himself. Somehow he found out about it going missing, and he thought he could con me into retrieving it for him!”

“So don’t. Tell him you couldn’t find it and move on to the next god or spirit or whatever that requests your services.”

Percy shakes his head. “No, I have to find it. The symbols of power of the gods - those shouldn’t be floating around for anyone to stumble upon. Especially not this one. I have to find it and return it to my - to Poseidon.”

“Why? I thought you didn’t like being used by the gods. Why do you care if something bad happens to them?”

He paces around the deck. “The gods aren’t great. They aren’t even good, usually. But they’re better than a lot of other things in the world. Besides, if I don’t fix this now, it’s going to cause even more problems for me to clean up later.”

“Just tell them no when they ask.”

He stares out at the sea ahead, his sea-green eyes sparkling in the sun. “It’s not that simple. Not this time.”

“You can’t say no,” Annabeth realizes. “You are a hero, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Percy rolls up the scroll and clenches it in his fist. He turns to face her, but there’s a playful smile on his face. “You’re too smart for your own good, you know that?”

“Some people can shape-shift into killer whales. Some people can kill monsters. I can read between the lines.” Annabeth returns the smile.

“Alright, Wise Girl, so tell me where we can find this pearl, then.” He raises an eyebrow.

Annabeth racks her brains. The answer comes quicker than she expected. “If the pearl can be removed, then it could have been knocked loose from the trident, right? And Poseidon’s not just the god of the sea, he’s also the god of hurricanes, so maybe it got knocked loose while he was using the trident to create a storm.”

Percy nods. “Good thinking. We’ll have to ask around when we’re at ports, find out when and where the latest storms have happened. For now, we’ll set course for Greece.”

“Because that’s where Poseidon’s home is?” Annabeth guesses.

“You know, Annabeth, I’m glad we’re on the same side. I wouldn’t bet against you any day.”

She watches as he steps past her to talk to Frank. Percy may speak highly of her, but she doesn’t think she’s anything compared to him. In the short time she’s known him, she’s seen him fight pirates, kill monsters, and win a wrestling match with a shape-shifter - underwater.

Annabeth has the feeling she’s only scratched the surface of his abilities. There’s something dark and dangerous underneath that quick smile and those bright eyes. He commands respect with his crew despite his easy going nature, he scared the nastiest pirate Annabeth has ever had the displeasure of meeting even though he’s half as small, and he isn’t afraid to pick a fight with supernatural beings.

Percy Jackson lives in a world of danger, magic, and beasts and he walks untouched. There’s more to him than meets the eye - even that of a trained observer.

She isn’t about to start betting against him, either.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence

**Chapter 7**

Annabeth picks up a glass bottle wrapped tightly to avoid breaking and pulls out the plug, sniffing. She’s expecting the sharp tang of alcohol or the bitter smell of medicine, but she’s pleasantly surprised when the aroma of her mother’s raspberry juice hits her nose instead. Annabeth never knew exactly what her mother mixed in it to taste so good, but it was always a hit at events they hosted.

Her shoulders slump as an unexpected wave of homesickness washes over her.

Will Solace glances over from his worktable, where he’s sterilizing all his tools. He must sense her sadness, because his face softens.

“It smells like my grandmother’s coffee to me,” he says, polishing a scalpel. “My mother used to take me and my siblings over every Sunday afternoon for drinks and cakes. I used to sit on my grandmother’s lap and drink right out of her cup. My mother would scold me, but my grandmother didn’t mind. She said that she wanted to enjoy it before I grew up and never came to visit anymore.”

Annabeth leans against the wall, clutching the bottle tightly between white knuckles. It feels like a piece of home, and she doesn’t want to let go of it.

“My mother’s raspberry juice was the talk of every party,” Annabeth says. “I’m not sure exactly what she mixed in; some sugar, a tiny bit of alcohol - not enough that us kids weren’t allowed to drink it, though - lemon, vanilla….She always promised me that when I got married and started my own family, she’d teach me how to make it.”

“It’s nectar,” Will says, nodding at it. “The drink of the gods. They don’t need physical substance like we mortals do, but I imagine they need the memories it evokes. One tends to lose a lot after a few centuries. Everything begins to blur together.”

Annabeth holds the bottle out in front of her as if it's poison. “What do you use the drink of the gods for? And where do you find it in the first place?”

“I use it for healing. A few sips can heal almost any wound - if it doesn’t burn you up first.”

She places it gingerly back on the shelf, any temptation of tasting it gone. “Seems risky.”

“Our whole lives are just a series of risks.” Will shrugs. “When my crewmates are lying on this table, dying of some supernatural wound, they’re more than willing to risk internally combusting. At least then they die with the taste of their favorite thing on their lips.” He tilts his head. “And it’s usually much faster than poison or bleeding out.”

“What about disease? I heard that’s a major killer on the high seas.”

Will spins around and faces her, looking quite offended. “That’s because most ship doctors follow what they learned in medical school blindly. They don’t take proper precautions and they don’t listen to old wive’s tales because they think they’re above them. I’m not like most ship doctors, though. I’ve researched treatments from across different cultures and peoples. If something doesn’t work, I don’t keep trying it again and again. I work to find a better solution. And I actually clean my equipment, though most doctors don’t see a problem with using the same knife on three people in a row.” 

“And it helps that you have magic drinks on your side,” Annabeth adds.

Will cracks a smile. “That certainly doesn’t help.”

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Annabeth asks. “People are scared to try new things, or listen to new ideas, so they persecute and shun the people who suggest them. But every once in a while, some rich person will make an outlandish claim and everyone takes his word as gospel.”

“Every once in a while they’re right,” Will agrees. “Like Russian Roulette. More often than not, they simply repeat what some lowly person said and then they get all the credit.”

“It’s why people like us will never get far in the world.” Annabeth remembers what her mother said before her wedding: _"No man can know how smart you are. We do not live in a world where intelligence in women is prized."_ Her mother was right, but it wasn’t the whole truth: they live in a world where intelligence in _common people_ isn’t prized.

From what Will had told her of his story, his family had been decently wealthy, and still no one wanted to listen to him.

“But that doesn’t matter. We don’t live in that world - not really. The world we live in is full of gods and monsters and staying alive is the only thing that’s really important.”

Annabeth doesn’t like how he uses the word “we”. She’s not a part of this world - not permanently, at least. She’s just a visitor. Maybe she will see through the veil of ignorance for the rest of her life, but she won’t go searching for danger like Percy and his crew. She’s not a tool of the gods; she’s just a girl who was at the wrong place at the wrong time and got swept up into this mess.

Will folds up his case of tools and tucks them neatly into the drawer. He grabs a small wad of bandages and motions at the door.

“I have to redress Raj’s shoulder. Do you want to come?”

Annabeth follows him up onto deck, though her thoughts remain wrapped up inside her mind as tightly as the bottle of nectar and twice as deadly.

The world she came from gave her no room for advancement. This world - the dangerous one, full of myths and legends - doesn’t discriminate. No one on the ship thinks twice about the fact that she’s a woman. Percy listens to her and acknowledges her intelligence. Frank, Beckendorf, and Will have taken her under their wings and taught her bits and pieces of their respective trades.

As much as she’s homesick for her former life, she begins to wonder whether she might be happier here in the long run.

-

Annabeth is seated on the deck reading a book on astronomical navigation when the attack happens.

The afternoon is warm, the sun high in the air and the ocean calm. On deck, Frank and Percy are squaring off, golden spear against bronze sword. A few of the crewmembers are standing around and watching. Beckendorf and Will are standing on the top deck chatting, Beckendorf twisting some wires and gears around in his hands mindlessly. 

Annabeth turns the page and traces her fingers over a map of the constellations, committing them to memory. Above her, the sails strain against the strong wind blowing them eastward.

Something changes. It’s a subtle shift, but everyone feels it. Annabeth closes her book and stands, a feeling of unease in the pit of her stomach. Percy and Frank lower their weapons and glance around. Beckendorf and Will fall silent. The other crewmembers reach out and grab hold of the nearest rope or railing.

Annabeth glances at the sails, which have fallen flat. She shifts her eyes over to Percy, who’s staring at her. His eyes suddenly widen. The sun, which had been warm against her back, disappears. She sees a shadow looming over her own on the deck, and her heart skips a beat.

Percy’s eyes harden. “Don’t turn around,” he says slowly. Annabeth swallows and clutches the book tightly in her hands, her knuckles turning white with the strain. If she thought it would help, she’d squeeze her eyes shut as well.

She hears the water shift and the boat creak as it tips starboard. Her back presses against the railing. The rest of the crew is on the port side, watching her with terror. She hears the slither of something moving and sees a crusty green tentacle slide past her inquisitively, just a breath from her foot. Annabeth barely dares to breathe.

A loud groaning sound rumbles behind her and a vacuum opens, pulling her backward. She slides down against the railing towards the deck of the ship to avoid being sucked overboard. The overpowering stench of brine and rotten fish and old seaweed surrounds her, and its all she can do not to retch.

“Now!” Percy shouts, and in one fluid motion Frank grabs his bow, knocks an arrow, and sends it flying over Annabeth’s head. A half dozen more follow in quick succession. The groaning turns into an outraged roar that nearly bursts Annabeth’s eardrums. She falls to her hands and knees and crawls to the other side of the ship as quickly as she can.

She’s just a meter from Percy when a tentacle wraps around her ankle. This time she lets out an undignified shriek as she’s dragged backward. She fumbles at her belt for her knife and twists so she can jab at the appendage. The tentacle releases and shrivels up as sticky green blood oozes out of the injury.

Annabeth climbs to her feet and runs, but the battle is everywhere now. Dozens of tentacles have crept over the railings, searching for unlucky sailors. Everyone is fighting for their lives, stabbing and hacking. Frank is shooting arrows at the head, but the creature has ducked below the water.

Annabeth stands next to Beckendorf and slices at any tentacles sneaking their way. Beckendorf has turned the wires and gears he was messing around with into a tiny flying machine with propellers that shoots tiny darts out, causing the tentacles to flinch long enough for him to smash them with his massive hammer.

Percy wades into the deepest nest of tentacles, each swing cutting into three or four at once. He scowls as he works.

Will is running around, ducking and weaving between tentacles as he tends to the wounded, lifting his arm around them and escorting them below-decks. Unfortunately Annabeth sees a few carried overboard - no doubt straight into the creature’s maw.

“This isn’t working!” Percy shouts over the battle. “We’re just making it angry!”

“We need to draw out its head!” Annabeth shouts back.

Beckendorf’s eyes widen. “I have an idea,” he says, then sprints to the hatch and disappears below-decks.

The creature pulls the ship to starboard, but a wave of water rights them. Percy has his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his hand clenched in a fist. Annabeth wonders if he’s praying.

A tentacle curled around the legs of an unlucky sailor zips past her, knocking her off her feet. Her dagger goes flying across the deck. She picks herself up, but before she can retrieve her weapon, a tentacle wraps tightly around her waist. The force of the appendage knocks the breath out of her lungs and she struggles futilely as she’s lifted into the air.

She’s lifted far over the boat until she’s positioned over the water. She punches and claws at the tentacle around her to no avail. She’s in the enemy’s element without a weapon. Any minute now she’s going to be a monster snack.

“Annabeth!” Beckendorf’s voice booms over the din of the battle. “Catch!”

He tosses a glowing green jar at her. His aim is perfect: with just a little straining she’s able to raise her hands and catch it in the air. She stares at it for a moment, not realizing what he’s given her.

“Throw it in the kraken’s mouth!” Frank cries as he stabs the tip of his spear into an attacking tentacle.

The water five meters beneath her parts as the kraken lifts its head to the surface. Its horrible mouth opens, revealing rows and rows of razor sharp teeth surrounding a pitch black gullet. Rags and broken weapons are caught in between the teeth. The stench nearly makes her lose consciousness, but her fear and adrenaline keep her mind clear.

Annabeth passes the glowing jar between her hands. She has the feeling it's some sort of explosive, which would either kill or at least drive away the kraken, but would also probably kill her. Then again, if she doesn’t throw it, it will eat her anyway. Better to die a hero than monster munch.

The kraken’s teeth widen, the black hole of the gullet opening wider. The tentacle around her loosens, and Annabeth screams. She reaches back her arm and chucks the jar just as the tentacle releases her.

One moment she’s free-falling through the air, heading straight towards a thousand razor sharp teeth. The next moment a wave - and a body - crashes into her from the side, directing her away from the path leading to the monster’s mouth.

She crashes into the sea with a sharp slap. Salty water fills her mouth and eyes, which she reflexive shuts. All the sounds around her are muted by the water, but she can still hear the dull thuds of an explosion. She forces her eyes open to see green lights flash in several places.

Suddenly she shoots out of the water and through the air. She hits the deck and rolls, coughing out water from her lungs on her hands and knees.

When she can breath again, she turns over and sits against the mast. Around her, sailors are moaning and clutching injuries or staring shocked out over the water. The wind picks up again, but otherwise everything is eerily silent.

Annabeth glances up to see Percy standing over her, perfectly dry. He smiles wearily when her eyes make contact with his.

“Not too bad for your first major monster,” he says. Then he suddenly lists to the side, his eyes drooping. Annabeth reaches up just in time to lower him gently onto the deck. She shakes him, but he doesn’t respond.

“Will?” she calls out, glancing wildly around. “Will!”

The doctor comes running over. He turns Percy over and checks his forehead and his wrist.

“He’s fine,” Will says, and Annabeth releases a pent-up breath. “He just over-exerted himself. It took most of his energy to keep the ship upright, not to mention rescuing you from being kraken-kibble.”

Annabeth frowns. “Keeping the ship upright?”

“Yeah. Krakens usually appear on one side of the side and tip it towards them, so that the sailors fall into their mouth. But Percy kept the ship level on the water, so the kraken had to use its tentacles to find its prey. Probably why it was so irritated.” Will straightens up. “I have a lot of wounded to attend to. Maybe get Beckendorf or Frank to take him to his cabin so he can rest?”

He runs off in the direction of more calls for help. Annabeth roams her eyes around the deck. She sees the glint of bronze in the sunlight and retrieves her fallen dagger, sliding it back into its sheath around her belt. Then she finds Frank, who helps her carry Percy back to the captain’s cabin.

Frank disappears back on deck to direct the recovery efforts. Annabeth pulls off Percy’s boots and drapes a blanket over him. He looks so much younger when his eyes are closed. He also looks so much more vulnerable. There’s an edge to his eyes that warns of danger; with his eyes closed, Annabeth can see traces of the boy he once was.

Annabeth sits on the end of his bed for a long time. She knows she should be out on deck helping Will with the wounded or Beckendorf with repairs or running messages for Frank, but after her near death experience, she needs to take a break.

She tries to sort out in her mind exactly what happened. There was the battle, and then she’d been captured by a tentacle, and Beckendorf had thrown her some sort of bomb in a jar - though what sort of bomb can burn underwater, she’s not sure - which she had thrown into the kraken’s open jaws.

After that, everything became blurry. Annabeth had fallen, but instead of being kraken food or getting caught in the middle of the explosion, a wave had swept her to the side. But it hadn’t just been a wave; Annabeth had felt a body slam into her. And when she’d been flailing around in the water watching the explosions, she’d felt arms reach for her. Then she had, impossibly, shot out of the water and back onto the deck of the ship - just in time to see Percy standing over her.

Her mind spins and she considers the implications of her thoughts. A few more puzzle pieces fall into place, completing one small section - the section with sea green eyes and wavy black hair.

The oracle: _“Beware, Perseus, son of the sea.”_

When they met the old man in Africa: _“Nereus. He’s a son of the sea who has the gift of prophecy.”_

A flash of memory: Percy emerging from his wrestling match with Nereus underwater breathing normally and completely dry.

The first night she met Percy: _“The ship was a gift from my father.”_

Their first day out at sea: _“I am doing work. I’m keeping this ship together.”_

A few minutes ago: _“He just over-exerted himself. It took most of his energy to keep the ship upright, not to mention rescuing you from being kraken-kibble.”_

The sand dollar attached to the leather cord around his neck.

In Baelo Claudia: _“I can feel traces of salt on these ruins. Not just sea spray - this salt is more concentrated….it was Poseidon, god of the sea....I’ve seen the trident myself.”_

_“...part of my blood.”_

At first Annabeth thinks she’s crazy. There’s no way the idea in her head could be true. But if salt monsters and shape-shifting men and oracles and kraken are real, why can’t this be as well?

She stares down at the sleeping captain and realizes exactly why he’s captain, even though Frank is bigger and Beckendorf is older and Will is more educated. She understands why he looks so comfortable at the bow of the ship, the sea spray in his face, his familiarity and ease in a world of gods and spirits and monsters and magic.

She understands how his easy smile and the hint of a brewing storm in his eyes manage to co-exist.

Above all, she understands his sense of duty.

_“This one is...personal.”_

_“Family issues?”_

_“You could say that.”_

Percy Jackson isn’t just a metaphorical son of the sea. He’s a son of the sea god.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence

**Chapter 8**

No one sleeps that night. The ship is a hive of activity. Lanterns hang from every available spot, casting light across the damaged ship. The _Pax_ was barely held together in one piece even before a giant sea monster decided to attack it.

Beckendorf takes over the crew, organizing repairs and supervising projects. Will takes care of the wounded, most of whom are not critically injured enough to be exempt from working. Without Percy, everyone’s doing double the usual work to keep the ship afloat. Frank helps wherever he’s needed most, which is usually wherever there’s heavy lifting involved.

Annabeth drifts around, bringing water to the workers, helping hold down patients while Will extracts large wood shafts wedged in their skin or sets broken bones and stitches up gashes, and helping Beckendorf identify which areas of the ship need immediate attention.

Worst of all, she helps keep track of the dead. She runs around with a ship ledger, checking off the names of the men working and making a mark next to the ones who are just a body or who disappeared altogether.

Occasionally she stops in to check on Percy, who’s passed out cold. He’s breathing normally and his skin isn’t clammy, so she’s confident that he’s just utterly depleted and not severely injured. She doesn’t think she could wake him even if she tried, but she’s tempted to at some points; the crew could really use their captain right now.

Annabeth is nearly dead on her feet by the time the sun begins to rise in the east. She’s accounted for every man on the ship, she’s lugged Beckendorf’s tools to every part of the ship and back, she’s brought water and rations to every working man, and she’s just finished helping Will with the last injury. Of course, many of the injuries will need to be monitored and redressed before tonight, but for now they’re cleaned and covered.

She stumbles across the deck, trying to find the next assignment, when she runs into Frank. He reaches out and steadies her.

“You need to take a break,” he says, looking concerned. Annabeth can barely see through her blurry vision. Her head aches, and she feels her hands shaking, but she opens her mouth to protest.

“There’s still so much - ”

“If you push yourself too far, you’ll just be another issue for us to deal with,” Frank says, his tone harder. His face softens. “You’ve already done so much, Annabeth. You’ve been through a lot in the last few hours. You'll be more useful when you’ve had a few hours of rest.”

Annabeth can’t argue with that logic. As much as she wants to press on and continue working, she knows he’s right. Her body has been pampered her entire life. She’s never had to work hard, not even before her mother’s marriage to her rich stepfather. She’s pushing herself to the limit, and if she drops, she’ll just be another one of Will’s patients.

She climbs down the ladder, her head spinning, and manages to make it to her room before collapsing in the hammock. She’s never been a deep sleeper, but as soon as her head hits the cloth she feels herself falling away.

-

She’s standing on a pristine beach, turquoise waves lapping against white sand. She’s wearing a white dress with flowing sleeves and a loose skirt that flutters in the wind. She turns around and faces a stone pyre stacked high with sticks. On top of it is a sea green shroud. As she watches, fire spreads up and eats away the shroud. She stands in front of it until all that’s left is ashes. In the midst of the ashes is a sand dollar attached to a shriveled leather cord.

She turns back to the sea, but no longer is it peaceful. The sun has disappeared and a storm is brewing over the waters. Lightning flashes in the sky and the waves roll in rough. Gray clouds move over the land and rain pours out. Annabeth lifts her hand to cover her eyes from the downpour.

A ship emerges from the storm clouds, completely unaffected. A familiar-looking man with curly black hair and sea green eyes stands at the bow of the ship, a twisted smile on his face. He is not Percy, but he looks startling like him. He has twin pistols tucked into the belt at his side and a bow and quiver slung around his back, a bandana tied around his neck. He holds out a glowing fist and opens his fingers, revealing a shining pearl the size of an eyeball.

Annabeth freezes as another figure steps out of the shadows to stand next to him. She’d recognize the blue eyes she’s been in love with for years anywhere. Luke’s brow is crinkled, as if he doesn’t exactly approve of what’s happening. He stares ahead, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of a bronze sword at his side - no, not just any sword; that’s Percy’s sword.

She turns back to the funeral pyre behind her, realizing exactly what’s going on. When she turns back, Luke and evil-not-Percy are standing on the beach, the ship anchored behind them. Not-Percy is completely dry despite the rain, but Luke’s untrimmed hair is drenched. He crosses the distance between them and wraps his arms tightly around her. Annabeth finds she can’t return the embrace.

“Luke, what’s happening?” she asks over the howl of the storm.

“I’m making the best possible future for us,” he says into her ear. “You’ll never be stolen away from me again.”

“That doesn’t answer my question!” Annabeth wrenches herself out of his arms and stares into his eyes, her gaze flickering briefly to the scar across his face, which almost looks sinister in the lightning. “What have you done?”

“I had to get you back. I would do anything for you, Annabeth.” He reaches out and pulls out the bronze knife from her sheath, which she hadn’t noticed attached to the belt of her dress. “Remember when I gave this to you? I did it to protect you. I promised that I wouldn’t let anything bad ever happen to you. I promised to keep you from harm, no matter what.”

“I was coming back to you, Luke.” Annabeth reaches out and touches the side of his face, cupping his cheek and covering up as much of the scar as she can with her hand. “You taught me how to protect myself.”

“I couldn’t stay behind and do nothing. I love you, Annabeth.”

The storm rages around them. Not-Percy scowls impatiently and rubs his finger across the pearl in his hand. Every time he does, thunder rumbles louder and the waves grow more agitated. Rain beats down across Annabeth’s face, mixing with her tears.

“I love you, too, Luke.” She drops her hand. “But I never wanted this.”

She glances back at the funeral pyre, and a different type of grief fills her. When she looks back to Luke, he’s gone and there’s only Not-Percy, who’s staring hungrily at her.

“You’re pretty,” he says. “I can understand why they were willing to risk everything for you.”

“They?”

“It’s too bad I have no room in the new world for mere mortals.” 

He tightens his fist around the pearl and a giant wave comes hurtling towards the beach. Annabeth watches it coming, the winds from the storm ramping up and blowing her dress and hair wildly around her. She closes her eyes as it crashes over her.

-

Annabeth sits up, her hammock swinging under her with the sudden movement. She looks around in alarm, but she’s still in her room aboard the Pax. She climbs out, pulls her hair into a loose ponytail, and then rushes up to the deck.

Based on the position of the sun, it’s the afternoon. The repairs are well underway, and the ship is sailing again. Annabeth catches sight of Percy and Frank on the topmost deck, standing behind the wheel and talking.

Annabeth glances over the water, her vivid dream still fresh in her mind. There’s nothing but blue skies as far she can see, so she takes a deep breath before ascending the stairs.

Percy and Frank both look up when she steps on the deck. Frank nods to her and dismisses himself, leaving just her and Percy.

Despite his rest, Percy still looks exhausted. He has bags under his eyes and his hair is askew. His shirt is buttoned up wrong, so one side of the collar sticks up higher than the other, and he has red lines across his face, probably from his blankets. He must have just woken up.

He manages a half-hearted smile. “Hey.”

Annabeth catches sight of the sand dollar necklace he wears and a chill runs through her. She crosses her arms and half-turns away from him.

“I know who you really are,” she says. She watches him from the corner of her eye.

He doesn’t seem surprised. “I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

“So this boat was the best your dad could do?” She raises an eyebrow and turns back to him, and he cracks a real smile.

“It was shipwrecked off the coast of Italy back in Roman times. They weren’t much of sailors, not compared to the Greeks. See, the Romans feared him, but they didn’t love him.”

“And is that how you feel?”

Percy shrugs. “Gods are always distant from their mortal children. So distant that many times mortal fathers adopt them and they live much of their lives not knowing the truth, or at least ignoring it. That’s why many of the legends of heroes have differing versions of the hero’s parentage. I guess I’m lucky that my father cared enough to claim me.”

“So how long have you known?”

“Since I was twelve. My mother always told me that my father went out to sea and never returned. I thought he was a sailor who either left or died; turns out she meant it literally. It wasn’t until I killed the Minotaur and had nowhere to go that he revealed himself. He told me the truth about myself and the world. He gave me this sword and the ship and told me that my destiny was in my hands.”

“That’s it? He just left you on your own?”

“The gods are not allowed to meddle in our affairs. Some stupid ancient rule or whatever. They can help us from time to time, but anything more than that…” Percy’s hand drifts to the sand dollar at his neck. “My father gave this to me on my fifteenth birthday. It’s the day a boy becomes a man in Roman culture. He spoke to me for a while, and for a few minutes I felt connected to him in a way I’ve never felt before.”

Annabeth remembers something else he’d told her. “What about your brother?”

“Tyson, my half-brother, he found me when I was thirteen. I was just starting to assemble a crew - Beckendorf was one of the first. He needed help, and at the time, so did I. My first big trip as captain was to the Sea of Monsters. Tyson proved invaluable. Then my father invited him to work in his palace under the sea.”

“I thought gods couldn’t get involved in your affairs.”

Percy’s jaw clenches. “It’s different with Tyson. He’s not mortal.”

Annabeth doesn’t fully understand what Percy means by that, but she can tell this is a sensitive subject, so she doesn’t press.

“So you’re doing all these quests to please your father? That’s why you can’t just walk away and start a different life. Especially now that the power of the sea or whatever has been stolen, you have to retrieve it to protect your father - who’s never really been there for you.”

“Children of the gods...we don’t have a choice. We can’t just walk away. Nothing good ever happens. Hercules lost his two wives and died from poisoning, and he was considered the greatest hero of all time. Theseus, another son of Poseidon, was killed by a king who threw him off the top of a cliff. Orpheus, a son of Apollo, was torn apart after he tried to bring his dead wife back from the Underworld. I could go on…”

“So you have to spend your whole life working for the gods, who only give you occasional help, or else they kill you.”

“It’s not the gods who kill heroes - well, not usually. They don’t really care what happens to us. But we’re too powerful. That’s why the Minotaur tracked me down. Monsters have been hunting me since I turned twelve, and they aren’t going to stop. And even if I kill all the monsters, there’s still mortals and other demigods to worry about.”

“You either die a hero or die a coward.”

Percy leans against the wheel. “I don’t like to think of the gods as using me, even if they are. I like to think that I’m choosing this life, that I’m choosing to be a hero. My father, he...he told me once how proud he is of me. He called me his favorite son. Even though he’s not physically here, he’s given me so much. Not all his children have the powers that I have. Theseus didn’t, or else he wouldn’t have died from falling off a cliff into water. I have to believe that counts for something.”

Annabeth doesn’t know what to say. She can see that Percy is trying to convince himself as much as he’s trying to convince her. He obviously has a lot of mixed feelings concerning his father. Anger, because he feels abandoned. Jealous, because his father recruited his brother and not him. Gratefulness, for the gifts and abilities he was born with. Longing, because he wants him more than he gets. Love, because he’s family, even if it’s a messy and complicated family.

“Not to sound cruel, but what about the kraken attack yesterday? Was that some kind of test from him, or…?”

Percy’s eyes darken, like storm clouds gathering. For a moment he looks like Not-Percy from her dream.

“My father is only one god of the sea. He rules the sea, but there are many gods and spirits who have powers within his domain. There’s Oceanus, the Titan of the sea, although he doesn’t usually get involved in wars. There’s Kymopoleia, my half-sister, who’s the goddess of storms at sea. There’s Phorcys and Keto, who are the god of hidden dangers of the deep and goddess of sea monsters. They’re children of Titans, so naturally they hate the gods and take it out on us demigods.”

“Do you think they’re looking for the pearl like us? It would be their best shot at overthrowing your father.”

“It would make sense, but they couldn’t be looking for the pearl themselves. Ancient laws and all that. There would have to be either a mortal or a demigod working with them. The laws don’t stop them from sending monsters after us, though.”

“But how would they have known about the pearl being gone in the first place? Is it possible they have spies in your father’s palace?”

Percy shrugs. “I don’t know exactly how the gods’ power works. I’m not sure what they know and don’t know, and how they get their information. That’s not something they go around advertising. Like, hey, here’s my strengths and weaknesses! Please come test them!”

“We should assume they know about it, though. And we should also assume there’s another demigod or mortal searching for the pearl. That means we have to beat them to it.”

Annabeth doesn’t care much for the gods, but she knows that if someone gets control of the power of the sea and decides to overthrow Poseidon, his heirs are probably next on the list, Percy included.

“My father still has power,” Percy says, as if he’d been reading her mind. “The trident - and the pearl inside - were gifts from the cyclops. The symbols of power - the trident, Zeus’ lightning master bolt, and Hades’ helm of darkness - do contain power in their respective elements, but they aren’t the source of the gods’ power.”

“But if someone who already has power - Oceanus, say, or Phorcys and Keto - and they get the pearl, what’s to stop them from being more powerful than your father?”

Percy doesn’t have an answer. He just stares over the horizon. 

“We just have to make sure no one else gets their hands on it,” he finally says after a long silence. Annabeth remembers her dream and a shudder runs through her. She normally doesn’t dream so vividly, but she can’t get those images out of her head. Is that the future? Is she developing powers like Rachel? Or was it a warning of what could be? Or was it just a dream?

But if it was just a dream, then who was that Not-Percy? She’s never seen anyone like him in her life. Somehow she can’t believe that her vivid dream was just a coincidence, a fantasy of her mind.

She lives in a world of magic and gods now. Why shouldn’t her dreams be supernatural warnings?

She thinks of the funeral pyre and a sudden emptiness fills her. She looks over at Percy and can’t imagine him being gone. He’s so strong and confident. She doesn’t want to meet whoever or whatever is powerful enough to kill him.

She also can’t imagine him dead when he’s beside her now, full of life.

His voice breaks through her thoughts.

“We’re going to have a funeral tonight at sunset for those who perished in the attack. We’ll send them to Davy Jones, who will grant them safe passage to the Underworld, as he does to all brave sailors who die at sea.”

Annabeth still doesn’t understand exactly how the Greek myths intertwine and interlap with myths from all different cultures, but she simply nods. Davy Jones is the spirit of the sea - whether that means he’s Poseidon or some other deity, it doesn’t matter. A name is just a name, after all.

Yet she can’t help but think of Percy’s namesake, the original Perseus. From what she can remember of him from Homer’s Iliad and other Greek myths, he’d been the only hero to retire and live the rest of his life happily with his wife and kids. Annabeth wonders if Percy’s mother had known that when he was born. She wonders if it’s a sign.

She’s surprised by how deeply she hopes that it is.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence
> 
> Author's Note: I hope this long chapter makes up for my tardiness. Between school and work, I hardly have any free time. Anyways, this is one of my favorite chapters, and I hope you love it too!

**Chapter 9**

After the kraken attack, the mood on the ship is darker, though not as dark as Annabeth had expected it to be. The funeral had been a solemn affair, the wrapped bodies disappearing into foam as soon as they had touched the water. Percy had stood on deck watching the spot where they had disappeared for longer than anyone else. Annabeth gets the feeling that he blames himself.

All told, nine sailors were lost. Not a terrible amount, considering the size of the threat, but the _Pax_ already had a tiny crew. All the sailors, many of whom are still sporting injuries from the attack, have to take up extra chores. Annabeth finds herself floating around even more so than usual, taking up work wherever she can. Her hands, once soft and pampered, have become tough and calloused from the hard work. In the few weeks she’s been aboard ship, she’s also noticed new muscle growth in her legs, arms, abs - everywhere, basically. The high society ladies from her former life would be horrified, and for some reason that brings a smile to her face.

They sail through the Alboran Sea towards Italy. Percy says they’re traveling to Sardinia to meet with an old friend of his who might have information about where the pearl disappeared. He’s been quiet and reclusive since the kraken attack, expending all his energy on keeping the ship running. Now that Annabeth knows his true identity, he doesn’t try to hide his powers. He stands at the bow of the ship and the vessel hums under his direction. Sails spread out and ropes tie themselves and even the wheel turns at his will. He could easily sail this ship by himself if it didn’t take so much effort on his part. He tries to make up as much of the work of the nine perished by himself, and he’s running himself ragged.

One morning he stumbles out of his cabin, his hair tousled and his eyes rimmed with red. He staggers to the bow of the ship to do his duties, but he trips and nearly falls, just barely catching himself on the side of the mast. Will intercepts him and guides him straight back to his cabin.

When Will emerges back on deck, Annabeth can’t keep her curiosity contained anymore.

“What’s going on with him?” she asks, her voice low.

“He has nightmares,” Will replies, looking troubled. “Not regular nightmares - his are usually visions of the future, or things happening in other places in the present. He wakes up even more tired than before. The more stressed he is, the worse they are.”

Annabeth thinks of the nightmare she had a few nights ago, with Luke and the evil Percy look-alike. She desperately hopes that it was just a dream.

“What has he been seeing?” she asks.

Will shrugs. “He won’t tell me. Or Frank, either. Which means it’s either so horrible that he doesn’t want us to carry the burden, or it’s personal.”

“Could he be seeing his family?”

“Since the pearl is part of his father’s weapon, it wouldn’t surprise me. But if that was all it was, then I don’t know why he wouldn’t tell us. Percy’s usually pretty open about what he dreams about.”

“If his dreams are so bad, then why did you send him back to his cabin?”

Will sighs, and for a moment he looks years older. “Eventually he’ll get so tired that he will sleep - and he’ll probably sleep for a couple days. But even if he doesn’t, it’s not like I had a choice. He’s running himself ragged. He can’t even walk right now. Frank will keep everything running while he rests.”

Annabeth wishes she knew what he was having nightmares about. She has an incessant need to know if he’s seeing the same thing she did. She remembers the hungry look the evil not-Percy had, and a chill goes down her spine. She can’t get the image of Luke holding Percy’s sword in his hands out of her mind, either. Why does he have it? What did he do to get it?

Who did the funeral pyre belong to?

She has a sneaking suspicion she knows exactly who, but she doesn’t want to accept it. If Percy saw that as well, no wonder he’s isolating himself.

The _Pax_ makes an overnight stop in Málaga, where Frank takes Annabeth ashore and shows her around. She’s obsessed with the architecture and design of the old Muslim fortress overlooking the harbor and could spend an entire week examining every detail of the place, but the trip comes to an unfortunately all too soon end. Percy doesn’t go more than fifteen paces from the ship, sitting on the beach and speaking with strange girls who walk out of the sea (Beckendorf explains to Annabeth that they’re Nereids, sea nymphs). He only looks more troubled when the ship sets sail again.

“My father has gone silent,” he says to Frank when the three of them are in the navigation room. “The spirits and gods think he’s in one of his moods, but that’s not it. If he was in a mood, there would be hurricanes and storms everywhere. Now he’s just gone quiet.”

“Like the sea before a tsunami,” Annabeth says, and Percy’s eyebrows pull together.

“Exactly,” he murmurs, fiddling with the hilt of his sword. Frank watches him with concern.

“Do you think Neptune knows who stole his pearl?”

“If he did, he would tell me something. He would want me to retrieve it. No, my dad doesn’t know anything.”

“That’s not good. Eventually he’s going to find someone to blame and he’s going to lash out.” Annabeth avoids both of their eyes. “He’ll go for someone he doesn’t trust, someone powerful. Most likely they aren’t the one who stole the pearl, or else they would have used it already. Instead his actions will just cause a war, and he’ll be without his most powerful weapon.”

“ _Di immortales_ ,” Percy mutters under his breath. “He’s going to blame Zeus. Zeus feels constantly threatened by him, and they haven’t been on the best of terms since Ares stole the master bolt and framed my dad. They were fighting for months before I finally retrieved it.”

“Ares?” Annabeth feels a jolt of recognition at the name of the pirate who had captured her back at Chester. “Is that why he doesn’t like you? Because you stole a powerful weapon from him?”

“No, he doesn’t like me because I insulted him and made him look weak. The god of war doesn’t take kindly to being beaten in combat by mortals.”

Annabeth’s eyes nearly bug out of her skull. “Captain Ares is the actual god of war?”

“Yeah, but he’s also pretty lazy, which is why he isn’t nearly as feared as he should be. He’s also not very smart, as you probably noticed. That’s how I beat him - I tricked him into fighting on my turf, where I have the power of Poseidon behind me.”

“You beat the god of war in combat?”

Percy lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “I just stabbed his leg, but that was insult enough for him to give up. Now he hates me more than anyone. I’m surprised he didn’t go after me on Tortuga. Maybe he’s still intimidated.”

Frank is watching Percy with wide eyes. He turns to Annabeth. “Percy has a bit of a respect problem, especially when it comes to egotistical gods,” he says. “It’s a problem.”

Percy doesn’t reply. Instead he stares down at the map in deep concentration.

“Sailing along the coast of Spain to the northern part of Sardinia would be the fastest route,” he says, tracing his finger along. “But then we’d be sailing closer to the Balearic Islands than I’m comfortable with. But sailing along the coast of Africa would add a few days, and we can’t afford to waste any time.”

“What’s wrong with the Balearic Islands?” Annabeth asks. She hates that she doesn’t seem to know anything about the modern mythological world. After years of being the most educated girl in the room, it’s frustrating to be the ignorant one.

This time it’s Frank that answers. “There are a lot of monsters in that area. A lot of them got sick of the bare pickings in the Sea of Monsters because sailors stopped going there after the _Argo_ ’s story became popular, so they left and migrated to other sailing hot spots. The Balearic Islands are one of those.”

Annabeth vaguely remembers stories of Jason and Argonauts. Her father used to read her bedtime stories from the Odyssey before he died. She doesn’t remember any particulars, though.

“It’s a risk we’ll have to take,” Percy finally relents. He steps back from the table. “Let the crew know the plan. Tell them they’re free to disembark at the next port. I don’t want anyone sailing to their possible death unwillingly.”

That comment should terrify Annabeth, but somehow she feels strangely unbothered. Since her close brush with death during the kraken attack, she’s felt almost invulnerable. What can’t she face if she survived a giant octopus with thousands of teeth?

It’s an attitude that will probably get her killed, but that also doesn’t seem to bother her too much in the moment.

-

A few days after setting sail from Málaga (where they had lost no sailors, despite Percy’s announcement to the crew about the dangers ahead in the Balearic Islands), Percy finally collapses as Will had earlier predicted. Frank takes over the running of the ship, and though they had sailed far further and faster than realistically possible due to Percy working overtime, they are still just approaching the strait between the Spanish coastline and the smallest of the Balearic Islands.

Frank paces the ship all day, his eyes darting around, constantly on watch. Although he’s more than competent as captain in his own right, Annabeth can tell he’s on edge with Percy gone. Beckendorf installs some new defenses and never strays too far from Frank.

Annabeth knows from spending weeks with them that although Frank is the first mate, Beckendorf is Percy’s right hand man. For one, Beckendorf has been with Percy for several more years. And although Beckendorf isn’t a tactical or strategic leader like Percy or Frank, he’s just as intelligent. He also possesses an easy-going and friendly personality that makes it impossible not to like him. Beckendorf doesn’t just hold the ship together physically; he also holds the crew together.

While Beckendorf and Frank keep the ship protected from monsters and keep it moving towards Sardinia, Will works tirelessly from the infirmary. A minor stomach flu breaks out among the crew, and every day a couple sailors spend the night puking up their guts belowdecks. Luckily it’s a fast-moving and relatively harmless virus that runs its course in twenty four hours and then disappears, but it’s still yet another hindrance to their already understaffed crew.

Annabeth is just thinking that the virus has run its course when she begins to feel stomach pains and nausea one evening. She excuses herself before dinner to her cabin and lies in her hammock, sweating even though the outside temperature isn’t as hot as it has been the last few days. She doesn’t get it as bad as the other sailors have - she doesn’t throw up, just feels poorly - so she counts herself as fortunate, but she still forces herself to sleep before she hears the dinner bells.

She wakes up early in the morning, feeling much better than the night before. She’s considering trying to go back to sleep for a few hours when she hears a voice in the distance. She strains her ears and when she focuses, she can vaguely hear singing.

Her gut tells her to stay in the cabin, but there’s a pull that grows stronger every second she listens. Before she realizes it, she’s already climbing the ladder onto the top deck.

As her head pops up into the air, the voice becomes much clearer. She hears several voices, all singing in beautiful harmony. At first she doesn’t understand the words, but slowly her ears adjust, and she begins walking across the deck of the ship, the story they’re singing calling to her.

The words speak of her future. In her mind, she can see all her dreams coming true. They also sing of her, unraveling truths about herself that she had only known on a subconscious level.

Annabeth doesn’t realize she’s jumped off the ship until she hits the water. The water dampens the sound for a brief moment before her head breaks the surface and she begins paddling furiously towards the source of the music. She has to find these mysterious singers. They know everything; she has so many questions for them.

In the distance, she hears yelling, but she ignores it and focuses on her goal.

The dreams the singers speak of coming true aren’t necessarily the dreams Annabeth had thought of, but when they suggest them, she finds her heart racing. She realizes that there are several paths her life might take - and she would be happy with how any of them turn out. She has options - but with those options come choices.

There’s the safe path - the life she had known. The life she prepared herself for. Settling down, raising a family, living in luxury. There’s the dangerous path - the life she’s in now. One big adventure, never stopping in one place for longer than a few days, fighting for survival and reveling in the mystical. And there’s a middle path: forging her own destiny, with pieces of both lives. But with whatever path she chooses, she’ll have to make a decision; she’ll have to sacrifice something.

_No_ , Annabeth wants to argue. _I don’t want to sacrifice anything. There’s a way to have it all. I can_ make _a way to have it all._

She has to find these singers, to reason with them, to have them sing the song the way she wants it written. And she also needs more information than what they’re giving her; these glimpses of the future aren’t enough. If she’s going to make a rational decision, then she needs all the facts and details. She has to find them and ask exactly what’s going to happen.

As she gets closer, they reveal more. She begins to see her life if she takes the path her past has prepared her for. They’re weaving a new beginning when suddenly Annabeth feels something clamp down around her ankle. She’s pulled underwater, her connection to the singers dampened.

_No!_ she wants to scream. _Not yet! I haven’t learned enough!_

She thrashes and kicks, trying to fight off the force pulling her under. The voices are dimmed, the pull on her lessened but not broken. They’ve stopped singing about her future, but are now urging her to come. _We’ll tell you everything you want to know_ , they sing.

Her lungs contract and she has to take a breath. She sucks up water and pain like nothing she’s ever felt before seizes her chest. She begins thrashing again, but now it’s not to find the singers; it’s to claw her way back up to the surface so that she can breathe again.

Black spots cover her vision, and she feels the fight begin to drain out of her.

-

Percy is the biggest, most incompetent idiot in the world.

First, he worked himself to the point of collapse. Every time he tried to sleep, he was plagued by terrible dreams of the world being covered in violent, raging storms and floods. He saw terrible sea monsters, ones who make the kraken look like a puppy, waking from thousand year slumbers and emerging from the darkest depths of the ocean. He saw entire countries wiped out by massive tsunamis. He saw the ocean floor covered in shipwrecks. He saw his father’s palace in ruins - his father’s palace, which he’s never been invited to visit before. He saw Poseidon’s trident snapped in half, floating among the wreckage.

As disturbing as those images are, he knows those are only nightmares, possible outcomes that are not yet decided. The worst dreams are the ones that he can feel are visions, like the kind Rachel sees.

He saw the _Pax_ exploding in a wave of tell-tale green Greek fire. He saw Annabeth on a beach in a flowing dress, standing in front of a funeral pyre. He saw a dark ship emerging from behind the cover of a storm with a ghastly and cruel turtle figurehead, snapping jaws wide open. He saw the blond-haired man with a scar down his face that Annabeth had pointed out in Rachel’s cave as her fiancé.

In between those terrible dreams, he saw images of the past - of his mother being strangled to death by the Minotaur; his best friend Grover tied up by his legs and dangling over a fire outside Polyphemus’ cave in the Sea of Monsters; his brother Tyson fighting Polyphemus; a dark-haired girl with caramel skin and a silver circlet exhale for the last time before dissolving into the stars; and his crew members disappearing into the gaping maw of the kraken.

Percy has seen many people die. In this life of magic and myths, death is more common than old age and retirement. He doesn’t forget any of them, though. Especially not the ones who he feels responsible for.

So Percy spent the last few days wearing himself out, not wanting to sleep but eventually having to close his eyes, even just for a few minutes. The nightmares tore through his unconsciousness and left him even more exhausted when he woke up, but he had to keep pushing forward. What else could he do? He used his powers to the max, speeding the _Pax_ along her way. He made up for the slack of the nine crew members who died during the kraken attack - an attack he should have saw coming, he should have prevented - and more. 

He had been hoping to get his crew safely past the Balearic Islands, but of course he had collapsed a couple days before. When he finally collapses, it’s usually a few days before he wakes up. His mind just shuts down - no dreams, no nightmares, no visions, nothing. When he wakes up, his body has reset itself until the cycle eventually repeats.

Normally his crew lets him sleep until he wakes up himself, but today he’s woken roughly by large hands grabbing his shoulders and shaking. Percy’s eyes blearily open, and he struggles to sit up. Oddly, he can’t hear anything. The person who had woken him - Frank - is trying to tell him something, but Percy is slow on the uptake. His mind is still fuzzy, and he reaches up his hand to his ears to try and find why he’s deaf.

Frank grabs at his hands, and Percy realizes that Frank is wearing wax earplugs. Percy clenches his jaw and feels earplugs in his own ears. Realization dawns on him and he mouths, _Sirens?_

Frank nods, then urgently points to the door. He mouths something that Percy doesn’t get at first. He tries a few more times, gesturing wildly, and then it clicks in Percy’s mind.

_Annabeth._

Percy doesn’t think. He just jumps up and barges out of his cabin, sprinting across the deck and diving off the side. As soon as he’s surrounded by salt water, his senses clear up and energy fills him. He uses the current to shoot himself towards the distant rocky shore, where the Sirens like to nest.

He can sense all the vibrations in the water, so he focuses on the biggest one. Annabeth is swimming quickly towards the shore, making much faster progress than Percy would have expected. To be honest, he wasn’t even sure that she could swim in the first place.

She’s already weaving in between the rocks, dangerously close to the shore. Percy has to be careful, and he still bumps against some boulders as he maneuvers quickly over to her. She’s about to squeeze through a narrow opening between two rocks, so he reaches out and grabs her ankle, pulling her back towards him.

As soon as his fingers close around her, an image burns itself into his mind. He realizes he’s seeing what she is.

Annabeth is sitting in a perfectly manicured garden in a beautiful gray and blue dress with lots of frills and a matching earrings and necklace set. Behind her is a sprawling mansion with stunning Greek columns, a Victorian door, and artfully designed windows. Two blond-haired children play with a middle-aged woman with brown hair and gray eyes who sits properly with her chin lifted, though her eyes shine brightly. At her side is a man with brown hair who smiles easily and lifts one of the children up, swinging him through the air like some sort of flying contraption. Annabeth herself watches the scene with a serene smile, holding hands with the blond-haired man with the scar. His bright blue eyes have crinkles around the edges as he smiles widely.

Percy has never heard the Sirens’ song. He’s heard that it reveals your greatest desires and also the deepest truths about yourself. He wonders if this is what Annabeth is hearing the Sirens sing about. For some reason, he feels disappointed. He can’t picture the girl who has gotten her hands dirty with manual labor on his ship or who manipulated Ares into a bar fight so that she could escape or who can expertly wield a deadly dagger settling down and living a quiet, normal life as a proper high society lady.

That’s when he makes his second huge mistake: he gets so caught up in what he sees that he forgets that Annabeth can’t breathe underwater like he can. She continues thrashing against his hold, but he assumes it’s her fighting him to get to the Sirens. It’s only when she stops fighting that he realizes something is wrong.

He frantically creates an air bubble around them, pushing away the water. She chokes and her body goes limp. He frantically turns her around and touches his hand to her forehead, willing the water in her lungs to come out. Her mouth opens and she coughs, a small stream of water pouring out.

She coughs a few more times, sucking up deep breaths in between hacking. When she can finally breathe again, Percy realizes she’s crying. At first he thinks it’s just from all the coughing, but then she looks him in the eyes and almost looks pained. She sinks to the bottom of the bubble, buries her face in her knees, and sobs.

He’s not sure what to do then. He can’t exactly talk to her - he knows that even though they’re underwater, she can still hear the Sirens. The water dampens their sound, takes the edge off their power, but their voices are still audible. Maybe that’s why she’s crying - whatever they’re telling her, it’s hitting straight to her soul.

Percy’s suddenly glad the others had put earplugs in his ears. He already beats himself up enough; he doesn’t need some Sirens reading his soul and laying it bare for him. If Annabeth, who’s strong and unapologetic, is this affected, he doesn’t want to imagine what it would be like for him.

He slowly moves the bubble away from the shore and towards the ship, which is slowly moving away from the island. The farther they move, the better Annabeth seems - at least, she stops sobbing and simply sits with her head buried in her legs. After about an hour, Annabeth raises a puffy face and nods at him. She wipes at her eyes while Percy moves their air bubble to the surface. Then he wraps an arm around her waist and uses a stream of water to rocket them back up onto the deck.

Frank, Beckendorf, and Will are all waiting anxiously on deck. They run over as soon as the water recedes, leaving a perfectly dry Percy and a soaking wet Annabeth. Percy removes his earplugs, and the others follow suit.

Annabeth keeps her face lowered, but her red-rimmed eyes are still apparent. Will grabs a blanket and wraps it around her shoulders while Frank and Beckendorf ask about what happened. Percy gives them an abridged version while Annabeth pulls the blanket tightly around her shoulders and then walks away, finding an abandoned part of the deck to sit down at and lean against the railing. Percy feels like he needs to talk to her, but he has no idea what to say.

Everyone always looks to him as a leader, but the truth is that he rarely ever knows what to do or say. His confidence comes in bursts of emotion - when he’s high on adrenaline, he becomes cocky and witty and suave. Once that adrenaline rush fades, he’s just an awkward guy who never had a normal life and doesn’t know how to react to most things.

Luckily, Will saves him. “She’s in shock,” he says. “She’ll be okay, but she probably needs some time alone to process what happened. Give her a few hours.”

It’s still early in the morning, the sun having risen while Percy and Annabeth were underwater. As much as Percy desperately wants to go over and talk to her, he defers to Will’s judgement. The way Annabeth is staring blankly at the deck, occasionally wiping at her eyes, he can tell that the last thing she wants is someone to try and talk to her about it.

“What happened?” Percy asks Frank when they’re well underway again, the crew out and working. 

“She was feeling sick the night before - there was a stomach sickness going around the crew, and she must have gotten it - so she went to bed before dinner. We passed a ship coming the other direction who warned us about the Sirens up ahead, so we all got earplugs. We remembered to put some in your ears, but we forgot about Annabeth.” Frank’s ears turn red. “I’m really sorry, Percy. As soon as I saw her jump overboard, I realized I had made a huge mistake. It was my fault.”

Percy can’t be mad at Frank. Frank’s one of the most pure-hearted guys he knows. Besides, if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s his own. Percy should have been awake to guide his ship through the monster-infested waters. Percy should have been awake to remember to give Annabeth a pair of earplugs. Frank shouldn’t have had to try and remember to do Percy’s job as well as his own.

Percy spends the day catching up on everything he missed and checking up on all his crew members. Beckendorf gives him a tour of all the new weapons he added to the ship in preparation for the dangerous mission ahead of them.

“It’s not your fault,” Beckendorf says, laying one of his giant hands on Percy’s shoulder. He always seems to be able to read straight through him.

“Then who’s fault is it?” 

“Nobody’s. Some things just happen.” Beckendorf turns to face him directly. “You’re powerful, Percy, but you’re not a god. And even if you were, you know better than anyone else how many mistakes gods make. What’s important is that you saved her. Nobody was hurt.”

“She doesn’t want to be here,” Percy blurts out. He knows it’s wrong to share the personal image he saw when he touched her, but he can’t keep anything from his closest friend. “She wants to be back home, with her fiancé and her parents. I saw it through her own eyes.”

Beckendorf’s dark eyes don’t waver. “Do you honestly believe that?” he asks. “Does she look like someone who doesn’t want to be here? She could have easily found a ship back to England when we stopped in Málaga, but she didn’t even glance at any other ships. She’s never once mentioned wanting to leave.”

Percy remembers how she’s sat on deck, staring blankly ahead all day, and he definitely thinks she looks like she wants to be anywhere but here right now. Beckendorf’s words don’t reassure him like they usually do.

“Talk to her,” Beckendorf urges him. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that girls are impossible to figure out. If you want the truth, you have to ask.”

Percy waits until dusk, when most of the sailors have retreated to the lower decks to play cards or grab a bite to eat or drink. Annabeth is still sitting on deck, her arms wrapped around her shoulders.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, feeling pretty dumb himself. He has no idea how to talk to her.

“I learned what my fatal flaw is today.” She smiles humorlessly.

“What is it?”

“Hubris.”

“Like that Greek chickpea paste? Ew.”

She cracks a tiny smile. “ _Hubris_ , not hummus, Seaweed Brain. It’s pride.” She looks away. “I thought that if I could make it to the Sirens, I could ask them about my future. They hinted at a few different paths I could take, and I thought that if I could speak to them I could see how each path plays out. I like to make my decisions from a logical standpoint, but in order to do that I need all the information. But that’s not how life works. You don’t have all the information. You don’t get to weigh all the pros and cons. You just have to take a leap of faith sometimes, follow your gut instincts.”

“Please don’t take any more leaps of faith off the side of the ship,” Percy says, and her smile reappears, this time slightly wider than before.

“I’ll try not to,” she promises.

“So...was it worth it? Hearing the truth about yourself?”

She shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know. Honestly, I think I’m more confused than before.”

“Annabeth...I - when I grabbed your ankle to pull you back, I saw something.” Percy explains what he saw. Her brows sink together as she listens, but she doesn’t interrupt him.

“I just thought you should know,” he finishes lamely. 

“I told you the Sirens showed me a few different possible futures,” Annabeth says after a long moment of silence. “That was one. But it isn’t entirely possible.”

“Why not?”

“The middle-aged man by my mother...that was my father. My real father.”

_The one who died_. Percy understands exactly how she feels. The perfect future will always be out of reach for them, because there’s always going to be a hole in their hearts.

Annabeth stands. She glances around, then does something that completely surprises Percy: she wraps her arms around him and hugs him. He’s too stunned to react at first, and it takes him a few seconds before he realizes he’s supposed to reciprocate. He awkwardly sets his hands against her back.

“Thank you for saving me,” Annabeth says before stepping back. “If you hadn’t, none of the futures I saw would be possible.”

She wraps the blankets around her shoulders more tightly and then walks away, crossing to the hatch that leads belowdecks. Percy is left standing on the deck, feeling as though there’s a message between the lines of that last sentence, but not able to figure out what it is.

He’s also left with a strange twisting feeling in his stomach and a slow realization that things have suddenly become a lot more complicated.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence
> 
> Author's Note: And here's another throwback to the OG series. If you haven't picked up on it, some of the events in this fic followed (roughly) the timeline of the books, but some haven't happened yet. For instance, Percy beat the Minotaur, fought Ares, went to the Sea of Monsters, saved Artemis from Atlas and saved the gods from the Titans in roughly the same timeline as the books, however some monsters and characters like Nereus and the character in this chapter haven't met him yet, even though they did in the books

**Chapter 10**

Nearly two weeks later, the northern coastline of Sardinia comes into view.

Annabeth is sparring with Percy on deck. Knife on sword is an unusual combination, but Percy doesn’t just use his blade; he uses the hilt and his body just as effectively. Annabeth may lack the range his sword gives him, but she’s quick and calculating, seeing the openings and lunging. 

Since the encounter with the Sirens, everyone onboard the _Pax_ has been on high alert. They’ve had a few minor monster attacks, but nothing too bad. Annabeth killed her first monster when some hybrid dog-men-seals (telkhines, Percy called them) slithered up from the ocean onto the deck. After that victory, the crew seemed to accept her in a way they hadn’t quite before. And although Annabeth learned a huge lesson about her own hubris during the Siren attack, she can't help but feel proud of herself. She walks with her chin up and her knife hung openly at her side. She’s no longer the same proper girl who was kidnapped by pirates and ended up on this ship by chance.

Percy has also been a lot better since the Siren attack, both physically and mentally, though Annabeth isn’t sure exactly what triggered the change. He still has nightmares - which he still declines to share with anyone - but they don’t suck as much energy out of him as they had before. His more relaxed side has shown through, though Annabeth feels as though he’s put up a wall between the two of them. She’s sure it has something to do with what happened with the Sirens, but she hasn’t figured out what it was, exactly.

Her most prevalent theory is that it has something to do with the image he saw when he touched her, the one with Luke in it. Maybe Percy thinks he’s being too forward with her since she’s an engaged woman? Percy seems like an honorable guy, so it’s likely, though Annabeth considers Frank, Beckendorf, and Will to also be honorable men and they haven’t changed the way they acted towards her.

When the coastline of Sardinia appears, a relieved smile breaks out upon Percy’s face. He lowers his sword and Annabeth, mid-lunge, nearly skewers him in the chest. He reaches out with his hand and grabs her arm, steering her knife away from his chest. The way he’s holding her has her pressed against his chest, her arm along his, and the close proximity turns her cheeks red. But Percy doesn’t seem to notice; he’s using the tip of her knife to point towards the island.

“We’re here,” he says, releasing her and stepping back. He looks over his shoulder at Frank. “Get ready to drop anchor!”

Annabeth takes a few deep breaths to get rid of the flush in her cheeks and sheathes her knife. “You still haven’t told me much about this friend of yours.”

“He’s the best,” Percy promises. “Just don’t mention his legs. He’s sensitive about them.”

She wonders what the heck that could mean. Percy is already in motion, giving sailors last minute instructions and working his sea magic.

Before long, the ship is anchored close off the coast. Percy chooses Will and Annabeth to come with him, leaving Beckendorf and Frank in charge of the ship.

“Why is it always three?” Annabeth asks as the small boat ferries them from the ship to the land. “When we went to Baleo Claudia, it was you, me, and Frank. When we met Rachel, it was you, me, and Beckendorf.”

“Three is a sacred number in Greek Mythology,” Will explains, the wind coming off the waves ruffling his blond hair. “Three Fates, three Furies, three Gorgons, the Big Three - ”

“The Big Three?”

“Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades,” Percy says. “The three most powerful gods - the sons of Kronos, Lord of the Titans.”

“That’s why you’re so powerful. You’re the son of a Big Three god.”

Percy glances away, looking uncomfortable. He leans over and dips his hand in the sea, the hilt of his sword turning her way. Annabeth glances at the unfamiliar Greek characters inscribed on it in gold.

“What does it say?” she asks.

“ _Anaklusmos_. Riptide.” Percy’s eyes darken. “My father gave it to me, but it once belonged to the bravest girl I’ve ever known.”

Annabeth isn’t sure why that bothers her. She knows from the dark look in his eyes that something tragic happened, but she can’t stop herself from asking, “Where is she now?”

“In the stars.”

The rest of the ride to the island is silent. They drag the boat ashore an abandoned stretch of beach. There’s no civilization in sight, just tall grass and forests.

“Does your friend live in a cave like Rachel?” Annabeth asks, setting her hand on the handle of her knife.

“Gods, no. He hates caves more than almost anything.” Percy closes his eyes and concentrates. A small smile breaks out across his face, and he begins taking long strides through the grass. Will and Annabeth follow at his heels.

“Perrrrrcy!”

A skinny guy with reddish brown hair that curls around his head and wisps across his jawline to form a short goatee at the end of his chin bursts out of the trees. He smiles brightly.

Annabeth remembers Percy’s comment about not mentioning his legs, so of course her gaze instantly flickers down. She freezes when she sees that instead of feet, the guy has hooves, and instead of human legs, he has goat legs complete with furry hindquarters and a stubby tail. Annabeth’s eyes travel up his torso, which is covered with a short-sleeved tunic, up to his hair, where she notices for the first time a set of horns peeking out of his half-afro.

“Hey, man! It’s been a while.” Percy hugs the half-goat man. 

“It’s been way too long,” his friend agrees. “You’ve been getting into a lot of trouble - I can feel when you’re in danger, you know. And sometimes your dreams leak through to mine.”

The happy expression on Percy’s face falters. “It’s nothing important,” he says quickly. 

His friend looks at him seriously. “Your dreams are always important, Percy. You can’t ignore them.”

Percy turns back to her, who is watching in shock. “Oh, I haven’t introduced you. Annabeth, this is my best friend, Grover. Grover, this is one of my new sailors, Annabeth.”

Grover holds out his hand, which Annabeth slowly shakes. “You’re a faun?” she asks, piecing together her knowledge of mythology.

Grover lets out a bleating sound. “A satyr,” he corrects. “Very different than fauns.”

“Grover isn’t just any satyr,” Percy says, a small smile dancing along his lips the way it does when he’s about to embarrass someone. Annabeth has gotten all too used to that look. “He’s the Lord of the Wild.”

“It’s nothing, really,” Grover replies, his cheeks reddening. 

“He has the blessing of Pan, the god of the wild. His job is to help preserve the earth and the remaining wild spaces.”

“That sounds really important,” Annabeth says. “What are you doing in Sardinia?”

“The mortals in the area are trying to cut down this forest to build more houses on the island,” Grover explains. “It’s one of the last wild areas on the island left. I’ve been trying to help the nature spirits fight back. Unfortunately, I keep losing spirits.”

“How do you lose nature spirits?” 

Grover shrugs. “They go into the forest and they’re never seen again.” He stamps his hooves nervously. “There’s something evil in those woods. That’s another reason why the locals want to tear it down. Maybe if we can get rid of whatever monster is hiding there, we can convince the people in the area to leave it.”

“Have you been working on your reed pipe music?” Will asks. Since Percy didn’t introduce him to Grover, Annabeth concludes that they’ve met before.

“I have,” Grover says, hesitantly picking up the instrument from around his neck. “But nature magic through music was not included in Pan’s blessing.”

Will holds out his hand, and Grover gives him the double pipe instrument. He lifts it to his lips and the most beautiful song Annabeth has ever heard rings out. Around her feet, green stems push up through the grass and grow into brilliant flowers. In a few seconds, the entire field around them is covered in the new flora.

Will lowers the instrument. Grover wipes at his eyes. “I wish I could play as well as you,” he laments. “The best I can do is unwilt flowers - but usually I just kill them.”

“Keep working at it,” Will encourages. “Maybe make some sacrifices to Apollo for a couple of weeks.”

“You said there was a monster in the woods?” Percy asks, glancing between the trees. “Do you have any idea what it is?”

Grover shakes his head. “I was actually hoping you could help me out. I would do it myself, but…”

“It’s no problem,” Percy says. “We’ll kill it and then maybe you can help me with a problem.”

And that’s how Annabeth finds herself on her first monster hunt. The four of them plunge into the forest, the sunlight disappearing as the thick canopy of the trees covers the sky above them. Within a few minutes the forest has turned eerily dark. Annabeth clutches her knife in her hand as they walk.

Percy holds his sword out in front of him, the bronze metal glowing in the darkness and dimly illuminating the area around them. Grover stays close behind him and Will comes last, a bow and arrow in his hand.

“I have a secret,” he whispers to Annabeth as they walk.

“What?” she asks, keeping her voice low.

“I’m a terrible shot.”

She can’t help but crack a smile, even though their surroundings seem to breathe evil. Annabeth wouldn’t be surprised if an army of monsters lived here.

“I’m still glad you have my back,” she whispers back.

“Let’s just hope I don’t accidentally shoot you in the back.”

They walk for about an hour, Grover pausing to cast a tracking spell every now and then using fallen acorns. Annabeth isn’t sure exactly what they’re tracking, but he and Percy carry on their own hushed conversation the entire time.

“What’s their story?” she asks Will. “How do they know each other?”

“Grover knew Percy was a demigod before anyone else, and he knew he was in danger. He dressed as a human and befriended him so that he could protect him. He was with Percy the night the Minotaur attacked.”

“And Percy wasn’t mad that Grover failed to protect him and his mother?”

“That’s not Percy’s style,” Will replies. “He doesn’t blame other people for the bad things that happen to him - except maybe the gods. Besides, Grover was the last connection from his previous life to this new one, and they went on a lot of adventures together. Grover is the reason Percy went to the Sea of Monsters a few years ago. He was captured by Polyphemus, and Percy went to save him.”

“What did Grover mean when he said Percy’s dreams were leaking into his own?”

Will frowns slightly. “I’m not exactly sure. I know that satyrs can read emotions, but that’s only in close proximity. I’ve heard rumors of special links that can be created between nature spirits, but I’ve never heard of one between a human and a nature spirit. It could be possible, though.”

Ahead, Percy and Grover come to a halt. Annabeth and Will catch up to them, the sight before them freezing them in their tracks.

There’s a cabin in the midst of a clearing ahead. Smoke curls up from the chimney, and a few candles flicker in the windows. Around the hut is a strange variety of stone statues intermixed with flowering trees.

“How are the flowers growing with so little light?” Annabeth asks.

“There’s some strong magic here,” Will says, squatting down and placing his hand on the ground.

“That doesn’t look like the house of a monster,” Grover says hopefully.

“It never does,” Percy says with a knowing sigh. He begins walking straight ahead.

They weave through the garden, taking time to examine the statues. Annabeth sees people in a variety of actions with a variety of facial expressions. Many of them look fearful. Some look simply surprised. In addition to humans, Annabeth also sees statues of animals and monsters.

Grover stops in front of an older satyr with long, curling horns. “This looks like my uncle Ferdinand,” he remarks. 

Percy presses on. He pauses by a stone fountain, gurgling with water. A miniature statue of a naked Poseidon holding his trident tops it. He frowns at it and stares for a long moment. Then he shakes his head and continues tracing his way towards the house.

He’s just raising his hand to knock on the door when it swings open. A woman wearing a black dress and a dark veil over her face appears in the doorway.

“It’s been so long since I had company,” she says in a heavily accented voice. Annabeth thinks she sounds like an old, lonely lady, but she doesn’t quite let her guard down all the way. “Come in, come in.”

Percy hesitates. He glances back at them, a wary expression in his face. He’s fought too many monsters to be tricked by an old lady disguise.

“And please, put away those weapons,” the lady continues, turning and heading inside. “I swear on the River Styx that no monster will attack you while you’re within these walls.”

Thunder rumbles overheard. Annabeth glances up in surprise, but the other three just follow the lady inside. Annabeth thinks that the way the woman worded the sentence is odd, but she trusts the others’ instincts. They’ve been fighting monsters a lot longer than she has.

The woman has food cooking over the fire, and she motions for them all to sit at her table. She hands out plates and silverware and then ladles out a delicious meal of gyros. Annabeth eats her fill, realizing that her trek through the forest had burned her out.

The old lady doesn’t eat; she simply stands behind them, filling up their plates again, and making casual conversation.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Grover,” she says as she heaps his plate with vegetable filling. “I’ve been so worried about losing my forest. You can always count on a satyr to protect the last few wild places.”

“It’s my job,” Grover replies before eating his plate, the glass and vegetables and sauce and all.

“And Will, such beautiful hair. You look like a modern Adonis.” She squeezes one of his curls through her fingers. “I could look at you forever.”

“Uh, thanks?” He shoots her a confused look.

“Annabeth, my dear, what a good facial structure you have.” Annabeth shivers as the lady runs her finger underneath her jawline. “I’m sure you have all the men vying for your hand. Too bad you’re spoken for already.”

Annabeth swallows what’s in her mouth and then stares at the table, her eyebrows furrowing together. How did the lady know that Annabeth was engaged? In fact, how did she know all their names? They hadn’t introduced themselves.

“And Perseus.” The woman stops by Percy, and though her eyes are covered, Annabeth can tell she’s staring at him enviously. “You look so much like your father.” There’s a distant longing in her voice that sets of warning bells in Annabeth’s head.

At the mention of his father, Percy looks up, his cheeks puffed out with food. Were they not in the middle of an evil forest eating food by a creepy lady, Annabeth would have laughed.

He swallows. “You knew my father?”

“Know him?” She sighs. “Did you see the fountain out front? I made it in his likeness. Isn’t it accurate?”

Percy looks queasy. “Yes.”

“Of all the statues in my collection, his is the one I want the most.” She leans her elbows on the table and seems to sink into them. “I could stare at him for eternity. Of course, I’d settle for you. You really do take after him.”

The warning bells in Annabeth’s mind are ringing like crazy. She’s convinced by now that this lady either is the monster or is working with the monster, but she doesn’t know her Greek mythology well enough to identify exactly what they're facing.

Grover seems to get it, though. His eyes widen and he slides back his chair, rising to his feet. “That statue that looks like my uncle Ferdinand - ”

Percy reaches for his sword at his side, but the woman grabs his wrist.

“Now, now, my dears,” she cooes. “I swore a sacred oath that no monster would attack you within these walls. I would hope you’d return the generosity.”

Percy looks like he doesn’t care, but Grover shoots him a worried look, and he backs down.

“Finish eating,” the woman says. “And then it’s time to make a decision.”

“What decision?” Annabeth asks, not putting the pieces together.

The woman tilts her head her way. “Sweet, innocent girl. You’ve seen the future. There’s nothing but heartache for you. Whichever path you choose, you’re going to lose one of them. I’m giving you a third option. You can choose to stay with me forever, and you won’t live to see your nightmare come true. It won’t hurt, I promise. It will be like an eternal sleep.”

The images from her nightmare flash in her mind: the funeral pyre, Luke holding Percy’s sword, the evil pirate with the striking resemblance to Percy holding the pearl, the storms raging as far as the eye can see. She senses the others looking her way, but she just stares at the woman in shock. How can she know about the dream? Annabeth didn’t tell anyone.

“Who are you?” she demands.

The woman clucks her tongue. “You disappoint me, Annabeth. You’re smarter than this.”

Everyone has stopped eating, and the woman notices. She stands at the head of the table. “Done eating so soon? Young people these days are always so eager. No patience. Well, it’s your fate you’re rushing to. So, what’s your decision?”

Percy tightens his grip around his sword hilt, though he doesn’t unsheathe it. “How is this going down?” he asks.

“It’s quite simple.” She clasps her hands together. “I’ll escort you to the door. If you choose to stay with me, I’ll let you choose a pose. If you choose to fight, you’ll be stuck with whatever ridiculous expression you have when you see my true form.”

“None of us are staying,” Percy says. He stands, and the others follow suit. “So take us to the door.”

“As you wish.” The woman reaches out and strokes his cheek one last time, ignoring how he flinches away. “It’s a shame, though. I would have loved to pose you.”

Annabeth’s heart is racing. She feels like she’s right on the edge of identifying this monster, but she’s missing one crucial piece. She has the sinking feeling that she’s about to find out.

The woman holds the door open. “Last chance, darlings.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Will pushes past her and steps out into the garden. Before anyone can call out to him in warning, he turns back.

In a flash, the woman lifts her veil. Annabeth hears a hissing sound and Will’s eyes widen before he turns to stone. It all happens so fast. Suddenly she understands what the woman had been talking about, and she knows exactly who they’re facing.

The woman - Medusa - turns back to them, the veil once again covering her face. “Now, who’s next?” she asks, her voice still sweet.

“Annabeth, go,” Percy says, his voice tight and his jaw clenched. “Run and don’t look back. Grover, you follow her and lead her out. I’ll take care of this.”

“Percy, I’m not leaving you,” Grover shoots back.

“Please.” Percy’s voice is strained. “I can’t lose anyone else.”

Annabeth steps forward, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. She steps off the porch and bursts into a run, ignoring the urge to take one last look at Will.

She vaguely hears the thud of hooves against the porch as Grover follows, and then she hears Percy yell as he unsheathes his sword and tries to blindly battle the gorgon. Annabeth runs until she hits the edge of the forest and then she turns back, hiding behind the trees.

Grover reaches her a second later. “I’m not leaving him behind,” he declares.

“Of course not!” Annabeth sneaks around the trees, circling around the hut slowly. “I’m trying to come up with a plan.”

“What do you have?”

“So far? Just that Medusa thinks we’re gone.”

“That’s more of a plan than Percy usual has,” Grover says.

 _And less of one than I’d like,_ Annabeth thinks, but she doesn’t say anything aloud. Once they’ve circled around the back of the house, she slinks back, hiding behind stone statues in case Percy’s battle with Medusa brings them around. Grover follows at her heels. As they draw closer, she can hear the sound of Percy’s sword bouncing off of stone and Medusa’s taunting voice.

“Your father couldn’t resist me, boy. What makes you think that you can?”

“I’d like to think I’ve learned from his mistakes,” Percy shoots back. “Especially since I end up cleaning up all the messes.”

Annabeth creeps towards the sound, peering behind a statue. Percy has his eyes clenched shut as he swings his sword in front of him. Medusa is simply watching from a safe distance, taking a step back whenever he gets closer. She’s ditched her veil, and Annabeth can see the snakes curling around her head.

“I’m going to distract Medusa,” Annabeth says, pulling out her knife. “Grover, shout directions to Percy.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Grover says, grabbing her arm. “Percy would never forgive me if you got hurt.”

“There’ll be nothing for Percy to forgive if he’s dead,” she shoots back before concentrating her eyes on the ground and running forward. She clips a couple statues with her side, but she ignores the burst of pain and continues in the direction she had seen Medusa in.

Annabeht raises her knife and swings at Medusa’s back. At the last moment, Medusa must sense her because she side-steps. Annabeth’s knife only grazes her, but it’s enough for the gorgon to cry out in alarm.

“You wretched girl!” she screeches.

“Annabeth?” Percy asks.

“Listen to Grover!” she shouts. She ducks as Medusa lunges forward, her fingernails having morphed into wicked-looking talons.

“Take five steps backward!” Grover yells.

What? Backwards? Annabeth has a decent sense of where Percy is, and backwards is the opposite direction! What is Grover doing?

“Now lean down!”

Annabeth makes another swipe with her knife, but Medusa is wise enough to stay just far enough back. As Annabeth’s arm follows through with the swing, the gorgon leaps forward, grabbing Annabeth’s throat with her hands. She tugs her forward. Annabeth squeezes her eyes shut as tight as possible, feeling the breath of the monster on her face. She can’t be more than three inches away from Medusa’s deadly eyes.

“Just open them,” Medusa coaxes. “Let it all end peacefully. Eternal slumber - is that truly so cruel a fate?”

Annabeth tries to turn her face away, but Medusa’s talons dig into her neck. She repositions the knife in her hand, angling it a different way. It’s not the proper way to hold a knife, but it will do.

She makes one last jerk, feinting to one side while bringing up her knife from the other. She stabs it into the gorgon and she releases her with a high-pitched shriek. Annabeth falls to the ground and scrambles away until her back hits a statue.

The monster didn’t explode, which means it wasn’t a fatal hit, but at least it freed Annabeth. She remains in place, breathing hard. This is the second time in two weeks she’s almost died from asphyxiation.

“Straight ahead!” she hears Grover shout. She looks up just in time to see Percy’s sword slice through the air and through Medusa’s neck. Percy is holding a reflexive ball in his opposite hand and watching his aim through it. The gorgon dissolves in a pop of golden dust, her head hitting the ground with a dull thud.

Percy drops the ball and jogs over to Annabeth, offering his hand. He pulls her to her feet and together they stand over the severed head of Medusa.

“What do we do with it?” Annabeth asks.

Percy glances towards the front porch, where Will’s statue is still standing, frozen forever in time. His lips press together grimly. “I know where.”

He sprints into the house, taking the steps two at a time. He returns a moment later with a wooden box and a piece of paper with something scrawled on it in black ink.

Grover returns just as Percy grabs the Medusa head by a handful of limp snakes and sticks it inside the box.

“What’s he doing?” he asks.

“I’m not sure.”

Percy closes the lid on the box and fishes out a golden coin from his pocket. Annabeth leans forward and reads what he’s written.

_The Gods  
Mount Olympus, Greece  
With Best Wishes,  
Percy Jackson_

“You can’t do that!” Annabeth hisses. 

“Why not?” Percy tosses the coin into the air. “Hermes Delivery, one package.” The coin disappears mid-air and a strong breeze blows by, picking up the box and whisking it away.

“Won’t they be mad?” Annabeth asks. “They might take it as a threat.”

“Good.” Percy’s eyes hardens and he walks over to Will’s statue. Annabeth stares at him in shock. She’s upset about Will’s death, too, but it wasn’t the gods’ fault. And even if it was, sending them a thinly veiled threat is a terrible idea.

“Don’t worry,” Grover says quietly. “He does this kind of thing all the time.”

Annabeth remembers Percy’s story about fighting Ares. “Doesn’t it make them mad, though? That he’s so disrespectful?”

Grover shrugs. “Many of them, especially the younger gods, are amused by it. They’re so used to mortals fearing them that they get a kick out of his insolence. For the few that it genuinely upsets...well, they’re not about to touch Poseidon’s favorite son.”

Annabeth and Grover join Percy and Will. Annabeth reaches out and touches his arm. The cool stone that was minutes earlier warm skin still doesn’t seem real. She can’t believe that he’s gone.

She thinks of the funeral pyre in her dream. Was it for Will? Somehow that doesn’t seem right, though.

Grover’s lip quivers. “Is there any way to reverse it?” he asks.

“Not in any of the myths that I’ve read.” Percy digs in his pocket again, this time bringing out a small, white, cubical rock.

“Smelling salts?” Grover asks. “That’s for bringing people back to consciousness. I don’t think it’s strong enough.”

“This is the last of the handful Hermes gave me the summer I sailed to the Sea of Monsters,” Percy says. He holds it up under Will’s nose. The salt chunk begins to disintegrate, turning into wisps of smoke that the stone statue of their friend seems to inhale. When the last of the vapor disappears and nothing happens, Percy steps back with a defeated expression on his face. “They’re supposed to be magical. I used them to turn myself back into a human after a sorceress turned me into a guinea pig. I guess Medusa’s curse is too powerful for even these.”

He seems to age in about ten years as he stares at the stone statue. Annabeth reaches out and sets her hand on his arm, though she’s feeling her own wave of sadness engulfing her.

“You did everything you could,” she says.

“I wasn’t smart enough. I wasn’t fast enough. I should have known. I should have - ” His voice cracks. “I’m never enough.”

Seeing the way he blames himself for his friend’s death, Annabeth understands why he once told her that he doesn’t like to call himself a hero. He carries the weight of so much sorrow. How many of the people he cares about has he seen die? He holds up all that guilt by himself.

She turns to try and say something to him, but Grover suddenly gasps. “Look!”

The gray stone slowly fades to a light brown color where Will’s skin had been, and the sharp folds of his clothes return to the fabric they had been before. He lurches to the side and takes a few deep breaths, his hands on his knees.

“Will!” Annabeth rushes forward and helps steady him. “Are you okay?”

He inspects his arms and legs. “I - I think so.” He sounds pretty shaken up. “Is she - ?”

“She’s dead,” Percy confirms. “But let’s get out of here. This place is creepy.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Grover agrees. They weave through the garden of statues and dive back into the woods, which don’t seem as eerie as before. Grover leads the way, with Annabeth helping support Will and Percy at the back. 

Back on the beach, Annabeth helps Will sit down on the sand while Grover and Percy stand a few feet away, talking in low tones. After a few minutes they hug again and Grover waves her way before disappearing. Percy walks back towards them.

“I asked Grover if he knew of any hurricanes or tropical storms that happened around the time the pearl would have been stolen,” he says. “He said he heard of a disturbance at the southern end of the Strait of Messina. Wiped out everything on the southernmost part of Sicily.”

“You think that’s where it is, then?”

Percy sighs. “I have no idea, but that’s our best bet. If the pearl got knocked loose from the trident, it would have been when my father was using it. If it was somehow stolen quietly, then this is all for nothing.”

“Just to be clear - if we retrieve that pearl, we’re giving it back to your father, and not that shady client back in England.”

He stares out over the water, looking conflicted. “Yeah,” he finally says. “As much as I dislike the gods...he is my father.”

“All this trouble isn’t worth a ship.” Annabeth motions at Will, who still looks dazed from his time as a statue. “People have died. Our friends have almost died. Besides, if you return this pearl to your father, he might reward you with a ship of your own.”

“I’m not looking for anything from him.” Percy fingers the sand dollar hanging from the cord around his neck, and Annabeth knows he’s not being entirely truthful. Percy is looking for something from his father - but it’s not a ship or any other physical thing.

“I know why you sent Medusa’s head to Mount Olympus,” Annabeth says, looking over at him. He meets her gaze.

“I just felt like doing it,” he admits after a beat. “I can’t help myself when I get impulses like that.”

“So Grover told me.”

But it wasn’t just out of spite or anger that Percy sent Medusa’s head - it was out of a need for attention. And there’s no better way to get the gods’ attention - his father’s in particular - than by sending the severed but still deadly head of a gorgon to their doorstep. Especially if said gorgon dated his father once upon a time.

“We should get back to the ship,” Percy says after a moment. “The sun’s starting to set, and we have a long journey ahead of us.”

Annabeth is surprised to find that she’s not disappointed by the length of the adventure ahead; if anything, she begins to worry that it will be over all too soon. And when it’s over, Annabeth will return to Luke - and to a life of suffocation under society’s rules.

Medusa’s offer suddenly sounds a lot more attractive.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence
> 
> Author's Note: I know Rick Riordan is going to stop writing his mythoverse books but I'd sell my soul for a book about Reyna and Hylla escaping Circe and becoming pirate queens

**Chapter 11**

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Annabeth sits on the edge of a cot in the infirmary, watching Will as he cleans and organizes his tools for the third time.

“I’m fine,” he insists. “I was only a statue for a few minutes.”

Still, his skin is paler than normal even a few days after the Medusa encounter. Will had been pretty shaken for the first day, but he’d put on a brave face and forced himself back into his work. Percy had asked Annabeth to hang out with him and make sure he was truly recovered, though Annabeth would have done it anyway.

“It’s just the third time you’ve done that,” she points out, swinging her feet.

Will closes the leather bag and turns around to face her. “I’m more bored than anything. No one’s been hurt in days. No sickness, no injuries, not even a splinter.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she teases, the corner of her lip curling up.

He runs a hand through his wavy blond hair. “I just don’t have anything to do. All this quietness gives me too much time to think.”

Annabeth understands that better than most. She’s felt the same way. Ever since Medusa taunted her about her choices, Annabeth has been weighing the pros and cons of her decisions over and over again. It seems like every monster they’ve encountered lately has been hand-picked to make Annabeth doubt her future. The Sirens showed her other paths she could take. Medusa gave her a way to escape her inevitable choice. Now she can’t even enjoy this adventure because she feels completely torn up inside.

_There’s nothing but heartache for you. Whichever path you choose, you’re going to lose one of them,_ Medusa had said. Annabeth had been dreaming at night again, seeing herself on that beach in the white dress, the funeral pyre behind her sending up tendrils of smoke into the sky. Sometimes Luke is there; sometimes he isn’t. Sometimes the sea is calm; sometimes it’s storming.

Last night, Annabeth had a new dream. Instead of being on that strange beach with the funeral pyre, she was standing on the beach by Luke’s estate, wearing the wedding dress she’d worn the day the pirates attacked. She was staring out over the smooth waves, her expression full of longing and regret.

She had felt so disturbed when she awoke in the morning. Although she had tried to put it out of her mind, the unsettled feeling keeps crawling back to taint her mind.

“I keep thinking about how I would feel if my life had really ended like that,” Will continues. “Am I satisfied with where I am? With who I am? With what I’ve done?”

“You’ve saved a lot of lives, Will,” Annabeth assures him. “And you’re a good person. A lot of people would miss you.”

“That’s a start,” Will agrees, “but what about on a deeper level? I’ve never been in love. I’ve never really made my mark anywhere. There’s so many things I haven’t experienced yet. I’m not ready to die yet. Being turned to stone was a huge wake-up call for me.”

Annabeth understands his anxiety. She’s been in love, yes, but there are still so many things she wants to do with her life before settling down. She wants to do something truly heroic - like helping to recover the pearl before it’s used for evil. She wants to travel more, fight more monsters. Above all, she wants to be known.

She knows it’s her hubris shining through, but she can’t help it. Annabeth wants to do something that will last for ages - whether physically, or in legend.

“I feel the same way,” Annabeth says. “Percy offered to help me find a ship back to my home, but I joined the _Pax_ because I wasn’t ready to get married yet. I love Luke, but I wasn’t ready to be a housewife yet.”

“To be honest, Annabeth, I could never see you as a housewife. From the first day you came aboard the ship, you looked like you belonged here just as much as any of us.”

“Sometimes I’m tempted to never leave,” she admits. “I think about my life on this ship, short as it may be, and I would rather die young than live a long, boring life.”

“If you want to stay, why don’t you?” Will’s blue eyes, as clear as the sky, stare intensely into hers. “I have my doubts about my life, but I have never regretted my decision to join the crew of the _Pax_.”

Right now, Annabeth longs to stay more than anything. But the thread connecting her to Luke and her family still pulls her back. “I can’t stay. There’s too much I love about my old life.”

Will leans back. “The ship will be very different without you. I almost don’t remember what it was like before you came.”

“Percy will probably be relieved once I’m gone. One less crazy girl who jumps overboard and swims to her death less.” Annabeth rolls her eyes, thinking of all her less-than-bright moments. The Sirens, the fight with the kraken, the salt monsters...at best, she had been a minor cause for worry. At worst, she had caused a lot of trouble.

“I wouldn’t say that at all.” There’s an edge to Will’s tone, as if he knows something she doesn’t. Annabeth picks up on it, but before she can ask, the alarm bells begin ringing. She and Will exchange a look before leaping into action. Annabeth grabs her knife and runs through the lower deck to the ladder, scaling it quickly. Will is at her heels, his medical bag slung over his shoulder. Maybe he spoke prematurely about there being no injuries.

Up on deck, the sailors are in a flurry of activity. The sky is dark, gray clouds blocking out the sun and a light rain falling from the skies. The waves are choppy, sending the ship listing back and forth. Annabeth spies Percy and Frank standing on the topmost deck, staring out to the horizon with their spyglass. She and Will climb up the stairs to join them.

“What is it?” she asks, breathless.

Percy lowers the spyglass from his eyes. His eyes are unreadable. He silently hands the tool over to Annabeth, who points it in the same direction they were looking in. She sees a ship in the distance, heading their way. It’s a massive ship with dark sails. At the top mast, two flags flap in the wind: one black with a skull on it, the other plain and the color of blood.

“Who is it?” Annabeth asks as she hands the spyglass to Will, whose skin turns an even paler shade of white as he looks.

“Only one pirate flies those flags,” Frank says, gripping the wheel nervously, his knuckles white. “Captain Edward Teach.”

“Or as he’s commonly known - Blackbeard.”

-

Percy paces across the deck as Frank continues to keep the ship steady. The _Queen Anne’s Revenge_ plows through the waves towards them, getting closer and closer until everyone aboard the _Pax_ can see them with their naked eyes. Percy’s men are loyal and brave, and though an undercurrent of fear runs through the ship, every sailor remains at his post.

Annabeth watches in fascination. She’s heard the tales of Blackbeard’s strength and ruthlessness - everyone has. He’s the most feared pirate of them all. She wonders, though, why only the flagship is sailing their way; where is the rest of the fleet? 

Most of all, she’s surprised by Percy’s reaction. He’s always been confident at sea. Even in Tortuga, when he helped her escape Ares, the god of war, he hadn’t seemed at all uneasy. But now, as he waits for the pirate to approach, his hand hovers over the hilt of his sword and he walks back and forth, his eyes constantly flickering around the horizon.

“It’ll be fine,” he says out loud after a few minutes. “I’ve met Blackbeard once before. Even helped him and his crew.”

“Percy, we’re in your element. The sea is all around us. How could we lose?” Annabeth asks.

“This is Blackbeard’s element, too. Do you think any pirate becomes successful without my father’s approval?”

Annabeth hadn’t thought of that before. But surely Poseidon would favor Percy over Blackbeard, especially since Percy is on a mission to help him.

“Blackbeard is also a son of Ares. Not only is he good in a fight, but he enjoys it. And it’s widely known than Ares and I don’t get along. Meetings with his children don’t usually go well for me.”

Annabeth stands on the top deck, clutching her knife in her hand, trying to think of ways to reason with the pirate should his past with Percy not be enough to convince him to let them sail past without a fight. As every minute passes, the _Queen Anne’s Revenge_ closes the distance. The rain still comes down, soaking everyone except for Percy.

When the flagship finally pulls up next to the _Pax_ \- which is tiny in comparison - Percy’s crew is assembled in a line behind him. Frank stands at his right side, and Annabeth stands slightly to his left. All their weapons are sheathed, though Beckendorf is standing right in front of one of his new machines, ready to fire should fighting break out.

A few tough-looking pirates throw a few planks across the distance between the two ships. Annabeth feels her heart race as they wait. Rain drops slide down her face, dripping in her eyes and down her chin, but she dares not move a muscle. The wind blows her ponytail to the side, and one annoying strand of hair blows in front of her face, tickling her nose and mouth.

Percy’s wearing a formal jacket over his usual white shirt, and he has his sand dollar pendant tucked under his collar. The wind ruffles through his black hair, but the rain doesn’t touch him. On his opposite side, Frank isn’t faring as well. He’s also wearing a formal jacket and holding his golden spear at his side, but the rain has flattened his already short crew-cut. He fidgets uncomfortably.

A group of pirates surround two figures, acting as a guard detail as they cross the planks. When they step foot aboard the _Pax_ , the front line moves to the side, revealing the two figures. Annabeth’s mouth parts in shock at what she sees. Frank’s brow furrows, and Percy blinks in surprised.

Two girls, one Annabeth’s age and one a couple years older, stand in front of the assembled crew of the _Pax_. The younger one wears a purple cloak over golden armor that snaps sharply in the wind. Her dark hair is braided over her shoulder and she has a sheathed golden sword at her side. Her dark brown eyes scan the crew before settling on Percy.

The older girl, who looks very similar to the first, doesn’t bother giving a second of attention to the crew. She just glares at Percy. Her hand drifts to the twin long knives sheathed on either side of her silver belt. She’s wearing all black from her boots to the hat on her head and her dark hair blows freely in the wind. There’s a faint silver scar across her forehead.

For a moment, there’s only stunned silence. Then the older girl speaks.

“Perseus Jackson. I swore that if I ever saw you again, I would kill you.”

She flies into motion, and by the time Annabeth blinks, she’s standing an inch from Percy, one of her knives held across the back of his neck, the other pressed into his throat. Percy’s crew draws their weapons and points them at the girl, but the _Queen Anne’s Revenge_ crew is just as fast, stepping forward to protect their captain.

Only Annabeth and the younger girl remain rooted, watching everything unfold. Their eyes meet across the deck, and Annabeth sees the same intelligence in the girl’s eyes that she saw in her mother’s.

“Peace, Hylla. There’s no need for a battle,” the younger girl says, setting a hand on her sister’s arm. “He’s the one we want.”

“Call off your men,” Hylla orders, pressing her blades more tightly into Percy’s skin.

“Stand down,” Percy calls out, loud enough for everyone to hear. The _Pax_ ’s crew hesitates, but they slowly sheath their weapons and take a step back. Only Frank remains, his spear pointed at Hylla. “Frank,” Percy says tightly.

“Her first,” Frank replies, narrowing his eyes. Hylla shoots him a glare, but just as smoothly as she attacked, she steps back and sheathes her knives.

“You will come aboard our ship with two representatives,” the younger girl decrees. “There we will decide what to do with you.”

Percy looks between the girls. “Who are you?” he asks. “What happened to Blackbeard?”

Hylla’s lip curls up in a snarl, but her sister simply tilts her head. “You don’t remember us?”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Hylla spits. “He’s just like every other man.”

“We’ll see.” The younger girl scans Percy up and down. “You have five minutes to choose your companions. If you try anything, we will destroy your ship and every one of your crew members.”

She turns sharply, her cape flashing, and she and Hylla walk back over the plank to their ship.

-

“I want to go.”

Percy looks up sharply at her. “No way. Did you see the way those girls were glaring at me? They’re going to kill me. And I don’t even know what I did to make them so angry.”

Annabeth knows she can’t describe the connection she felt when she made eye contact with the younger girl, but somehow she knows that he needs her to help broker peace. “I’m a girl. I’ll be able to understand them better than you.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“I’m coming, too.” Frank crosses his arms, his mind made up.

“The crew needs you. Who else will lead them when I’m gone?”

“I will.” Beckendorf steps up. “If something happens, I can keep the ship running. The crew will listen to me.”

Percy runs his face with a hand, looking frustrated. Annabeth isn’t sure if it’s with the situation they’ve found themselves in or at himself because he doesn’t remember these girls.

“That settles it,” Annabeth jumps in, seizing the moment. “Frank and I will go with you. Beckendorf will take over the ship if we don’t return.”

Percy slumps in the chair in the navigation room. He looks downright awful. Annabeth wishes she knew what was running through his head.

“Fine,” he finally says. “We’d better go before they think we’re trying to pull something.”

As they walk the plank to the other ship, Annabeth finds that she’s more excited than fearful. She has a lot of admiration for the two girls - even if they do want to kill Percy. She can tell from the way the men defer to them that they command respect - something that she never imagined possible for female pirates.

The pirates lead their group into a decent-sized room that serves as a captain’s office. Hylla sits in the high-backed wooden chair behind the desk, her knives set by her hands on the table. The younger girl stands by her side, leaning against the wall, two dogs at her feet. They growl when they fix their black eyes on Percy.

Hylla sits up straight, glaring at Percy every second. The pirates sit them down on chairs in front of her, rougher than necessary, before exiting, the door closing definitively behind them. For a long moment they sit in silence.

“I already know who you are, Perseus, son of the sea god. Introduce your companions. I like to know who I’m about to kill.”

Percy nods at Frank. “This is my first mate, Frank Zhang.” His eyes flicker to Annabeth, and she sees a hint of fear in them. “This is Annabeth Chase.”

“Since you don’t remember me, I’ll reintroduce myself. I’m Captain Hylla Ramirez-Arellano of the _Queen Anne’s Revenge_. That’s my sister and the first mate, Reyna.”

Reyna nods coldly.

“Now convince me why I shouldn’t kill you.”

Percy looks at her closely. “We have met before,” he decides. “But I don’t remember where.”

“How convenient.” Hylla taps her fingers against the desk, and through the window sunlight glints off the silver ring on her first finger. It has a crossed spear and sword engraved into it.

Reyna’s dogs still have their hackles up, but they aren’t growling. Reyna watches them for a moment before speaking. “He’s telling the truth. He doesn’t remember.”

“Then allow me the honor of reminding you.” Hylla leans back and crosses her arms. “It was four years ago.”

“The summer I went to the Sea of Monsters,” Percy says, nodding. “But you’re not - “

“Monsters aren’t the only ones who resided there. You docked at our shores, battered and weary from your journey. I greeted you on the beach, welcomed you to our home, introduced you to our mistress. And how did you repay my kindness? You freed the worst pirates to ever sail the seas from captivity and allowed them to destroy our sanctuary. They took us captive and forced us to work as slaves on their ship.”

Percy’s eyes widen. “Circe’s island,” he says. “I remember now. You gave me a tour.” His eyes flicker up to Reyna. “You were working there, too.”

“Apprenticing,” Reyna corrects.

“You knew what the sorceress was going to do to me!” Percy accuses, his confusion turning to anger. “You led me into her trap. You weren’t innocent.”

“No one is innocent,” Hylla snaps. “And you were vain enough to fall for her tricks.”

“She manipulated me,” Percy argues. “I didn’t fall for anything. I was young and insecure and she took advantage of me. She lied to me. She turned me into a guinea pig!”

“And you should have stayed that way! Circe did you a favor.”

“A favor?” He shakes his head adamantly. “Turning men into pigs isn’t a favor.”

“She didn’t turn you into anything. She was revealing your true form.”

“Look,” Percy says, waving his arms. “I’m sorry that you were enslaved by pirates and your home destroyed. But it wasn’t my fault. I did what I had to do to escape. I didn’t purposely free the other pirates. I didn’t even know they were Blackbeard and his crew. We were just a bunch of guinea pigs in a cage.”

“It wasn’t your fault?” Hylla raises an eyebrow. She glances back at her sister. “Do you even hear this?”

Reyna stares at Percy, a strange expression on her face. Unlike her sister, she seems more reserved. She holds her emotions close to her chest. Annabeth can’t get a good read on her. She has no idea if her silence is good for Percy or bad.

“When the pirates were turned back into their human form, you ran,” Reyna says slowly. “You knew they were dangerous, and you ran away and left us to their mercy.”

Percy opens his mouth, but Annabeth knows that whatever he’s going to say is only going to make things worse. She beats him to the punch.

“From his point of view, the entire island was full of enemies,” she reasons. “You guys helped Circe turn him into a guinea pig. The pirates were chasing him even though he helped free them. He was surrounded by assailants. It wasn’t a fight he could win. He would have been stupid to stay.”

Both girls turn their eyes to Annabeth.

“Annabeth Chase,” Reyna says, sounding her name out aloud. “I haven’t heard of you before.”

Annabeth feels her cheeks turn red, but she refuses to look away first. She won’t appear weaker than she already does.

“She’s my advisor,” Percy says quickly.

“Fights your battles for you, as well,” Hylla remarks.

“I wonder if her sword is as sharp as her tongue,” Reyna adds. There’s a challenge in her gaze.

“Pirates only understand one thing - strength,” Hylla says, turning back to Percy. “Along with being slaves, we were entertainment for the crew. They would pit us against their best swordsmen. We had to fight to survive.” She points to the scar on her forehead. “I got that fighting Blackbeard himself.”

“We rose to the top of the ranks,” Reyna continues. “We commanded respect. Eventually, we won the crew over and took over the ship from Blackbeard.”

“If it wasn’t for you, Perseus Jackson, we would still be serving girls for Circe.” Hylla smiles humorlessly. “Circe didn’t even stick around to help once the pirates broke free. She could have turned them back into guinea pigs but she didn’t even bother to fight. She just disappeared, leaving us to fend for ourselves. That was our wake-up call.”

“You understand our predicament.” Reyna uncrosses her arms, and Annabeth sees that she has an identical ring to Hylla’s. “We swore to kill you. No amount of reasoning, no matter how logical, will convince our crew that we should let you go.”

“They want your blood,” Hylla agrees. “We haven’t fought anyone in a long time. They won’t respect us anymore if we let you go. And honestly, I’m still not convinced we should.”

Percy spreads out his arms amicably. “Like I said, I’m really sorry about what happened to you. If I had known what the pirates would do to you, I would have tried to stop them. But that was four years ago now. We’ve all come a long way. Right now, I’m on a very important mission.”

“What mission?” Reyna’s eyes bore into him.

Percy glances over at Annabeth, and she nods. Although his mission is supposed to be secret, he’s going to have to tell them if he wants even a chance of getting out of here alive.

He explains the prophecy and the pearl. He tells them about his dreams. They both listen attentively.

“Neptune is a powerful deity. If he lost his domain, it could cause trouble for our entire world,” Hylla muses when he’s finished.

“Italy would especially be vulnerable,” Reyna adds. “Most of our country is surrounded by sea.” She looks at the three of them, but her gaze settles on Annabeth. “Our mother is Bellona, the Roman goddess of war.”

“Like Ares?”

Hylla rolls her eyes. Reyna patiently explains, “No, Mars is the Roman equivalent of Ares. He’s also a god of war, but he’s more of the overall god of war and strategy. Our mother is the goddess of the homeland and the defense of it.”

“So you should support our mission,” Annabeth reasons. “If we fail, your homeland is endangered. That would weaken your mother’s power and influence.”

Hylla glances at Percy. “Where did you find her?” she asks. “And how did you convince her to hang around?”

Percy shrugs, but when he glances back at Annabeth, there’s a hint of a smile on his face.

Hylla and Reyna exchange glances, an entire silent conversation happening within the space of a few seconds. Hylla finally turns back to them.

“Very well,” she says. “We have decided to allow you to live, provided that you continue on this mission. There is just one condition.”

Percy nods, looking relieved. “Anything.”

Reyna points with her chin at Annabeth. “She will have to win in combat against one of our men.”

Percy’s face turns pale. Annabeth is sure hers does the same. She sits stock-still, fear coursing through her veins. She came on this mission because she was sure her wisdom and intelligence was needed; she didn’t think she would need to fight. Especially not a one-on-one battle.

“That’s impossible,” Percy sputters. “I’ll fight. I’m the one who put us in this position in the first place.”

“You’re the son of the sea god and a well-known pirate. We have no one that would take up a challenge against you.”

“Then let me fight,” Frank offers.

Reyna shakes her head. “It has to be her. Annabeth convinced us to let you go free; now she must convince our crew. As I said before, the only thing our men respect is strength. She must do what my sister and I did and earn freedom through combat.”

As terrified as Annabeth is, she also feels really empowered. She has a lot of respect for Reyna and Hylla and she wants to do something they did. Like her conversation this morning with Will: she wants to make her mark, to be known. What better way than by beating one of Blackbeard’s pirates in combat? 

Annabeth has been training with Percy for more than a month now. She’s fought monsters. What’s one pirate?

“I’ll do it,” she agrees, standing up. Both Percy and Frank turn to stare at her, but she ignores them, keeping her gaze on the sisters.

“Good,” Reyna nods. “I’ll gather our men.”

“And I’ll find a worthy opponent,” Hylla says. The two girls sweep out of the room.

“Annabeth, are you sure?” Percy asks. “This is my fault. I should be the one risking my life.”

“It’s fine,” Annabeth says. “This is my chance to prove myself. What’s the point of all my practice over the past few weeks if I never fight anyone?”

“Remember to fight smart and not hard,” Frank says. “Pirates aren’t always known for their brains. Whoever it is will underestimate you. Use that to your advantage.”

She nods.

“If it gets too close, I’m stepping in,” Percy says. 

“Don’t. You can’t put everyone aboard the _Pax_ at risk. You know that Hylla and Reyna will attack if you interfere. I’m not worth all their lives.”

“Then I’ll be strong enough to fight them all off.”

Annabeth knows that although Percy is strong, he’s not that strong. She’ll have to make sure she wins this cleanly - for everyone’s sake. She can’t have Percy go off the rails and make things worse.

Reyna and Hylla return. “Everyone’s ready. Come with me.”

Hylla escorts Percy and Frank out, leaving just Annabeth and Reyna. Reyna has a pile of armor in her arms, which she offers to Annabeth.

“Thanks,” Annabeth says, taking just the breastplate. She doesn’t want to be weighed down by a whole suit.

“Let me help. You’ve never worn armor before.”

Annabeth isn’t sure how Reyna could know that, but maybe it’s a war goddess thing. She raises her arms and lets the other girl tighten up and secure the straps.

“I wouldn’t have chosen you for the fight if I didn’t believe you could win,” Reyna says as she works. “I believe you’re stronger than you know. Certainly stronger than your male companions think. This isn’t just a chance for you to win your freedom. This is a chance for you to prove yourself. Women have to work twice as hard to gain half as much respect, yet we are so rarely given the opportunity to do so.”

Annabeth reties her boot laces and pulls her hair up into a tighter ponytail. “How did you do it? Go from being a servant to a capable fighter.”

“It does help when your mother is a goddess of war,” Reyna admits. “But mostly I took my fate into my own hands. When something bad happened, I accepted the new reality I was left with and did my best to improve my prospects. Nothing comes out of wallowing or being indecisive.”

She tugs on the shoulder straps and then steps back, nodding in satisfaction. “You’re ready. We best not keep them waiting.”

She swings the door open, and an excited cheering sounds. Annabeth steps forward into a ring created by pirates. They jeer and scream as she continues walking.

On the other end of the ring is a pirate with a face full of scars and a mouth full of gold teeth. He grins at her and twirls his sword in his hand. Annabeth glances up behind her at the top deck, where Percy and Frank are standing between Reyna and Hylla.

“This is a battle to the death,” Hylla calls out, the pirates going quiet when she speaks. “Should the _Pax_ ’s champion win, they will be set free. Should our champion win, we shall execute the _Pax_ ’s captain and first mate.”

A loud cheer goes up from the pirates. Annabeth tightens her grip on her dagger. Hylla raises a pistol and fires into the air. The pirates begin clamoring as Annabeth and her opponent, who she nicknames Goldteeth, circle around each other.

He makes the first move, leaping forward and swinging his sword at her midsection. She dances back, out of range, and stabs forward as he momentum carries him past. He jumps back, just missing the tip of her dagger.

He tries again, this time feigning to the left and them slicing at her right side. Annabeth is just a slight second too slow and the edge of his blade catches her arm. She flinches back as a sharp pain cuts through. She glances down at her forearm and sees a huge gash just under her elbow. The pirates cheer at the sight of blood.

Annabeth decides to try offense this time. She runs at him, hitting the ground at the last second and rolling under his sweeping blade, stabbing upward. She pulls her knife out of his thigh as his sword arcs down and rolls out of the way. His blade hits the deck with a dull _thunk_.

They trade blows for a few more minutes, neither drawing blood. Annabeth has a hard time getting close enough for her knife to do any damage, and he has a hard time keeping up with her because of her speed.

Annabeth begins to pick up on his fighting style as they spar. She sees his strengths and weaknesses. She learns his tell and how to read his attacks before he even begins. She picks up on his patterns, and she begins piecing together a strategy.

She goes on the offensive again, blocking a sword strike with her knife and pushing his arm to the side before freeing her knife and swiping at him before he can figure out how to angle his long blade back at her. She cuts a shallow arc across his chest (serves him right for not wearing armor) and then steps back. For the move to work she had to sacrifice her leg; as she retreats, he’s able to slice weakly at her right leg. The cut across her calf is shallow, but it stings and weakens her stance.

Angered by the injury she dealt to him and empowered by the sight of her limping, the pirate grows cocky, which is exactly what Annabeth had planned on. He hefts his sword up and charges straight at her. She waits until the last second to move, stepping out of the way and catching his sword arm, holding it out harmlessly in front of her. As he struggles to escape her grip, she stabs her knife into his chest.

Killing a man doesn’t feel like killing a monster does, even if the man had been trying to kill her. A sickening feeling fills her gut even as the pirates cheer her on. One reaches down and pulls the knife out of Goldteeths’ chest, wiping it clean on his shirt before returning it to her. She almost doesn’t take it back.

Looking back up at the top deck where Hylla pronounces her the winner, Annabeth reminds herself why she had to do it. If she hadn’t killed him, she and her friends would have been killed. It wasn’t a choice. There was no alternate way around it.

This is a cruel world where people die - and sometimes where you have to kill others.

Frank and Percy are set free, and they help Annabeth limp back over to plank to the _Pax_. The _Queen Anne’s Revenge_ crew pulls the planks back and sets sail again. As the ship passes, Reyna lifts her chin at Annabeth in a gesture of respect. 

Will runs up to Annabeth as Frank and Percy set her down on the deck. He opens his bag and begins pulling out tools.

“You know, when I said I was bored because no one had injuries, I didn’t mean for you to go out and get yourself cut up,” he says dryly as he begins to stem the bleeding. Annabeth winces but holds the cloths where he tells her to.

“What happened?” Beckendorf asks, approaching their little group. The rain has stopped, but the clouds are still dark around them. In the background, Annabeth can hear Frank ordering the crew to set sail again. Normally the swaying of the ship doesn’t bother her, but she feels dizzy from blood loss and her head spins.

“Remember the summer I went into the Sea of Monsters?” Percy tells Beckendorf the whole story, from when he went to Circe’s Island to Annabeth defeating their pirate.

Annabeth leans her head against the railing, half-listening to Percy telling the complete story (and making her sound way more heroic than she really was) and half-listening to Will as he gives her instructions.

“Alright, the bleeding has slowed down and I’ve cleaned up the wound as best as I can, but you’re going to need stitches,” he says. “I don’t know if you’ve ever had stitches before, but it’s going to hurt.”

“Okay.” Annabeth’s head is still spinning too much for her to fully comprehend his words.

“Hey, Percy, come here,” Will says. Percy crouches down next to them.

“What is it?” he asks, glancing down at the mess of bloody rags. “Is she okay?”

“She will be, once we get these stitched up.”

“So what do you need me to do?” 

“Hold her hand.”

“What?”

Will sighs. “It’s going to hurt a lot, so I may need you to hold her down, or she’ll just need something to hang onto. So hold her hand.”

Annabeth is lucid enough to notice that Percy’s face turns red. She smiles a little. Of course the powerful, strong, and confident pirate captain would get nervous about something as stupid as a minor medical procedure and holding hands. She reaches up and grabs his hand. It’s cool, like water.

“Ready?” Will asks.

“Just get it over with.”

He begins working. It’s the most painful thing Annabeth has ever experienced - even more than getting the injuries in the first place. She squeezes Percy’s hand hard, trying not to cry or instinctually kick Will away.

The worst part is that she has to go through it twice - once on her leg, and once on her arm. It seems to last forever. When Will finally ties off the last knot, she feels exhausted from tensing her muscles. Next to her, Percy rubs his hand and smiles at her ruefully.

“You’re stronger than you look,” he remarks.

“Sorry.” 

“Let’s get you down to the infirmary. I don’t want the wound to get infected.” Will gathers up his bag of medical tools and stands. Percy helps Annabeth to her feet and then helps her limp across the deck, down the ladder, and then through the hallway to the infirmary. She collapses on one of the cots.

“Uh, thanks,” Percy says, standing awkwardly by her cot.

“For what?”

“You saved us today. You were pretty awesome.” He reaches up and scratches at the back of his neck. “So thanks.”

“We’ll call it even for when you saved me from the Sirens,” she says. Her eyelids feel heavy, and her head is still spinning a little, though not as badly as before. 

“Rest well,” he says, and then she closes her eyes and fades away.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence

**Chapter 12**

Annabeth makes her daily walk around the deck of the ship. It’s actually several rounds, since the _Pax_ is so small.

Her wounds from her fight with Goldteeth on Hylla and Reyna’s ship are mostly healed, although her calf is still mending, which is why Will ordered her daily walk. She still has a slight limp, but it barely hurts.

The ship is busy, all the sailors preparing to make port in Naples. The storage hold is nearly empty, and they’ve had to ration water for the last couple days. Percy has been so focused on pressing the ship ahead at full speed that they haven’t sparred - not that Annabeth has been in much shape to.

That’s the other strange thing - since the story of Annabeth’s fight spread, the crew members have been treating her completely differently. As she walks past the men on her round, they stop and let her go ahead of them, sometimes even apologizing to her for being in the way. She thinks it’s absolutely ridiculous, but she also feels pretty proud. She earned this.

Her pride at her victory is eclipsed by the thoughts that keep swirling around her head. She overthinks the entire encounter with the girls, trying to find a solution where she didn’t have to kill anyone. She has a hard time believing it was unavoidable, even though none of her proposed scenarios have led to any different outcome.

She still can’t reconcile herself with being the same girl who killed a man. The version of her that wakes up in a cold sweat at night isn’t the same girl who daydreams about reuniting with her fiancé.

“How does it feel?”

Will’s voice snaps her out of her thoughts. Annabeth turns as he approaches.

“Pretty good. Just a little sore.”

“You’re lucky. It healed up just in time to do some sight-seeing in Naples.”

Annabeth raises an eyebrow at him. “Sight-seeing?”

“Why not? Although I do spend most of my time trying to restock my medicinal herb stash. Some of those ingredients are hard to find.”

“I’ve always wanted to visit Italy,” Annabeth says, looking out over the water to the distant shore. 

“You must have been fated to come on this mission with us, then.”

“You really believe in fate and destinies?”

Will shrugs. “I’ve seen monsters and gods and magic with my own eyes. I’ve witnessed ancient prophecies come true. I’ve seen heroes rise and fall. It makes sense to believe in what I’ve seen.”

Annabeth isn’t sure she believes in all that. If fate is real, then what about free will? She has to believe she has a choice in what happens in her life. Even though Rachel had seen part of Annabeth’s future, it’s still a future that Annabeth chose for herself...right?

“I’m not really part of this world, though,” Annabeth says. “Even if fate was real, it wouldn’t apply to me.”

“I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you became a part of this world the moment you stepped onto this ship. And if not then, then definitely when you began contributing to this mission.”

Annabeth frowns. She looks away from him and back towards the water. If she was able to choose to be a part of this world so easily, then why couldn’t she just as easily choose to leave it? Unlike Percy, she isn’t the child of a god. She doesn’t have supernatural powers. She’s not even a huge threat.

The thought of leaving this world weighs heavily on her mind. Meeting Hylla and Reyna and seeing what they’ve made of themselves changed Annabeth’s perspective a lot. This is a world where strong women can do powerful things. Women can fight and rule over men. Women can be heroes, too. Women are so much more than a pretty face and a good wife and mother.

Even if Luke allowed her to be herself around him - which he always did - she wouldn’t be able to act that way in any other space. In a world where survival is an everyday battle, gender roles aren't so important.

Part of Annabeth wishes she had never taken Percy’s offer to join the ship. If she had never learned about this world, she wouldn’t be thinking twice about returning to her old life. Now, although she’s still sure she’s going back, she can’t help but worry that she’ll always wonder what her life could have been if she stayed.

She shakes the thoughts away. She doesn’t have to go back yet; she still has time to make her mark. She can finish this mission, feel satisfied that she did something scary and adventurous and different, and then return to live a nice, normal life with fond memories to look back on. She’ll be satisfied and content.

For now, the focus is the mission - and staying alive long enough to return.

-

“Naples is one of the most important ports in the Mediterranean,” Percy says as they dock at the very end of the harbor. “It’s been that way for centuries.”

“I thought Romans weren’t much of sailors,” Annabeth replies, staring out at the bustling port ahead of them - and at the magnificent terra cotta, white, yellow, and pink rainbow of buildings stretching out as far as the eye can see. It looks just like the painting that hangs in her step-father’s library, although that painting is of Florence.

“They weren’t as avid as the Greeks, but in order to transport their armies and expand their empire, they didn’t have a choice. The sea was a reluctant necessity for them - which is exactly how they regarded my father.”

Percy doesn’t hide the bitterness in his tone. Annabeth is surprised to hear it, especially after the way she’s heard him talk about his father before. There’s obviously a lot of unresolved issues between the two of them, yet Percy still feels offended on his behalf.

Annabeth isn’t sure how to respond, so she turns her eyes back to the land ahead. In the distance, covering the entire city in its shadow, is Mount Vesuvius. Beyond that volcano is the infamous city of Pompeii. Before she left England, Annabeth had heard of some recent excavations being done, although not much had been discovered beyond a few buildings and coins.

Her eyes focus on one large building in particular: Castel Nuovo. A beautiful castle, about five hundred years old, with several circular towers. It dominates the city skyline. Although the Pax had passed another castle on their way in - the sea bound Castel dell’Ovo, which stood upon its own island - Castel Nuovo is much more entrancing.

Annabeth has always been fascinated with castles. She remembers trips to the countryside as a child, passing old castle ruins. Occasionally they’d pass pristine castles in their prime - at a distance, of course. She’d return home and try to sketch the ramparts as best as she could remember. One of her childhood dreams was to design her own castle to live in one day.

“Do you want to go into the city?” 

She turns to see Percy watching her closely. She wonders if her longing gaze is that obvious.

“It’s fine,” she says. “There’s a lot of work to be done on the ship, so I should probably stay and help out.”

“No, you want to go into the city. We can take a quick trip. I always give the crew some free time, anyway.”

“Okay.” Annabeth tries to hide her excitement, but from the amused smile on Percy’s face, she isn’t sure how good of a job she’s doing. 

When the ship is completely settled in, the crew takes off to enjoy some well-deserved free time. Annabeth digs through the pile of clothes Rachel had given her, trying to find something suitable. She may get away with wearing men’s clothes on the ship, but they’re back in the real world now.

Women’s clothing is extremely restrictive, not to mention excessive. The style is to wear a cushion sort of thing around the hips underneath the dress to keep the skirt from slumping down, the neckline plunges a bit deep, and there’s ruffles and lace details galore. Annabeth spent nineteen years of her life wearing such horrible things; no amount of society is going to get her to repeat that until she returns to England. Instead she wears a simple light-gray dress with a moderate neckline and none of that hip-bolstering nonsense. She knows she’ll still stick out, but at least it won’t be as bad as if she wore pants.

She drags a wooden comb through the worst snags in her hair and then piles it on top of her head in a bun, a few curls stubbornly escaping. Oh well. This is the best she’s going to get. She secrets her knife in the hidden pocket of the dress (thank you, Rachel!) and heads up on deck.

“Don’t laugh,” she tells Percy when he sees her.

He shakes his head and raises his hands in surrender. “I won’t. Promise. But it just doesn’t look like you at all.”

“Then maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought you did.” Annabeth breezes past him and heads down gangplank. “I used to dress up even fancier than this every day.”

“Just because you did something doesn’t make it true to yourself.” Percy jogs slightly to catch up to her. “I’ve only been to Naples once before, but I remember that the best place to start was the Piazzo del Plebiscito.”

They wind through the streets, passing dolled-up ladies and gentlemen and rough sailors alike. The streets are narrow, much more narrow than the streets in England, and the gods help them when some rich person tries to drive their carriage through. The smell of cooking food wafts through the streets as they pass vendors and bakeries. Annabeth is sure it’s a trick of the sun, but she swears she sees a shadow flickering at the corner of her eye several times. Whenever she turns to look, there’s nothing there.

If Annabeth thought the streets were a disaster, though, she isn’t sure what she’d call the Piazzo. The main square of the city is an enormous space - although she can’t even tell the full length of it, because it’s covered in tents, wares, and vendor carts. Hundreds of people stroll around shopping, dozens of vendors scream out prices and weave through the crowds, trying to sell off their goods to the wealthiest looking women, and children sprint in and around, sometimes chased after.

The royal palace serves as a backdrop, a line of guards carefully standing between the unorganized chaos of the market and the priceless residence. They scowl anytime someone wanders too close.

Annabeth finds herself pressing closer to Percy so she doesn’t lose him in the crowd. He navigates easily, although his eyes dart around, constantly on high alert. He circles around the outer ring of the market, locating a food stall.

They order something quick to eat before pressing on, leaving the bustling market in the distance. They walk around the city, passing by towers dating back to the Roman times and statues of the gods as well as more modern buildings. Along with the Castel Nuovo, Annabeth really likes Cathedral of Duomo, which is as old as the castle.

As they head back towards the ship, a man corners them. Percy tries to make excuses, but the man is insistent. He speaks rapid-fire Italian, which Annabeth doesn’t understand at all but Percy apparently picks up some of it.

“No, we’re not interested,” he insists.

The man talks some more. Annabeth catches the phrase “figlio del dio del mare”. From their time in Spain, she recognizes “dio” to mean god, and “mare” to mean sea. She glances sharply over at Percy, who blanches.

“Venire!” the man cries, and waves at them to follow. Percy sets his hand on his sword hilt, but he eventually follows. 

The man leads them through back alleys and shadowy streets, which raises red flags in Annabeth’s mind. The man finally stops by the base of an old church - San Gennaro, Annabeth reads. He opens a door that leads through the darkness, and motions them forward. 

“We’re not really going down there, are we?” Annabeth asks. She remembers the mysterious shadow she had seen and gets a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“I think we have to,” Percy says. He reaches out on the wall and grabs a torch. “You can stay out here if you want to, or go back to the ship. But I have to see what’s down here.”

Annabeth turns to ask the man who led them here what exactly faces them, but he’s gone. She hadn’t heard him leave; it was almost as if he had just faded away. Goosebumps prickle up on her arms, but she simply reaches out and grabs the torch from Percy.

“I’m coming,” she says, “but you better have your sword ready.”

They begin their descend into the darkness. They haven’t gone more than ten feet when the door behind them slams shut. Annabeth jumps, and quickly backtracks. The door doesn’t budge. Percy tries as well, but he seems more disappointed than surprised when it stays shut.

“We’re locked down here,” he says. “The only way out is through the other side.”

“If there’s another side,” Annabeth replies.

He gives her a sideways look. “Not helping.”

They begin trekking back through the darkness. The firelight from the torch flickers off the stone walls and reflects off of Percy’s blade. Annabeth swears she sees that shadow again, but there’s so many shadows bouncing around that she can’t be sure.

They’ve only walked a few minutes when the tunnel opens up into a large chamber. Annabeth waves the torch around, illuminating tall arches and several other tunnels. She presses closer to the wall and nearly shrieks.

“Uh, Percy?” she calls out, unable to hide the shaking in her voice. “Do you realize where we are?”

“We’re in the catacombs,” he replies, his face grave as he turns from the grinning skulls embedded in the walls. “This can’t be good.”

The words had no sooner left his mouth than a small skeletal hand burst through the wall. This time Annabeth can’t help the scream that escapes - but to her relief, Percy screams as well. They stumble back as more bones begin breaking free.

It’s a scene out of a nightmare so gruesome it had never even occurred to Annabeth before. She’s shocked that she doesn’t have a heart attack right there and then. Instead, her instincts kick into high gear. She waves the torch out in front of them with her left arm and her right hand sneaks into her pocket and draws her knife. Percy is holding out his sword in front of him, but none of the skeletons seem to be attacking yet. They just surround them in a loose circle, grinning with empty eyes.

For a few minutes they stand there. The waiting is what kills Annabeth the most. Her heart sits there and races, pounding nearly right out of her chest. She feels Percy at her back, and that’s at least slightly comforting. She begins to wonder if the skeletons are just going to stay surrounding them forever until she and Percy waste away and become one of them.

“What are they waiting for?” Annabeth whispers.

Percy’s voice is tense. “Their master.”

“Who is that?”

“The ghost king.”

Annabeth turns at the unfamiliar voice. A line of skeletons part to the side as a dark figure emerges from the shadows, walking straight towards them. As the torchlight illuminates their opponent, Annabeth is shocked to see a boy step their way. He’s a few years younger than her - just fifteen or sixteen years old. His shaggy black hair falls over his eyes in the front, dark orbs against pallid white skin. He raises a hand casually, light glinting off a silver ring, and the skeletons stand at attention.

“Nico,” Percy says, sounding shocked. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been searching for you for years,” Nico rasps. “I never forgot. And I never forgave.”

Annabeth is surprised at the flash of pity and sadness, rather than fear, that she sees in Percy’s eyes.

“I tried to find you,” he says. “I wanted to make things right.”

“Make things right?” Nico’s hand clenches into a fist, and the skeletons respond, brandishing various weapons that they point straight at Percy. “The only way you can make things right is by suffering the same way she suffered!”

“Bianca wouldn’t want that, Nico,” Percy says. “She would have hated what you’ve become. She - ”

“Stop acting like you knew her! Like you knew anything about us! You promised you’d keep her safe, and you let her die!”

Percy flinches. He slides his sword into his sheath and spreads his arms. “Nico, please listen. I tried to protect her. We all did. She made her choice, and she died a hero. She died to protect us.”

“It should have been you!” The boy’s scream shakes the entire cavern. A few chunks of rock fall from the ceiling. Annabeth glances nervously around, wishing she could see how strong the structural supports are - actually, on second thought, maybe she doesn’t want to see that.

“Have you talked to Bianca?” Percy asks, his tone softer than Annabeth has ever heard it. 

Nico scowls deeper, and his hand drifts to a sword hilt attached to his belt. Finally he mumbles, “She won’t answer my summons.”

“When was the last time you tried?”

“Why would this time be any different? She abandoned me. Even before she died, she abandoned me.”

“Sometimes it’s worse seeing the spirits of the ones we once loved. I saw my mom once, after - “ Percy’s voice cracks. He takes a steadying breath. “It wasn’t the same. I almost regret it.”

“At least she was willing to see you.” Nico glares at the ground.

“It was years before she did. She knew that I was in too much pain after it happened. I think you should try again, Nico.”

The boy glares at him. For a deadly moment, Annabeth fears he’s going to skewer him. Instead he hangs his hand. The skeletons around him collapse with a rattle into harmless piles of bones. Nico asks, “Do you have any wine?”

-

Annabeth and Percy wait in the catacombs while Nico disappears to gather supplies. She’s still shaking from the fright of it all.

“What happened?” she asks, her voice echoing in the chamber. “Why does that kid hate you so much? Who’s the girl you were talking about?”

“Bianca,” Percy says. “His sister. A few years ago we went on a quest for the goddess Artemis - Grover, Thalia, Zöe Nightshade, Bianca, and I. Zöe and Bianca didn’t return. I promised Nico I would do my best to protect his sister - they were new to the world of gods and monsters, and it was her first quest. And I did, I tried - but we were being chased by one of Hephaestus’ haywire inventions and Bianca sacrificed herself to save us. There was nothing any of us could have done.”

“And he blames you for it,” Annabeth finishes. “But what did he mean when he said she abandoned him even before he died? And how did he control these skeletons? Or summon ghosts?”

“The goddess Artemis has a group of immortal female hunters that do basically the same thing my ship does - travels around the world, hunting down monsters and occasionally helping out the gods. The leader of the hunt, Zöe Nightshade, recruited Bianca. She thought that she could become the next leader.”

“Why would she be the next if they’re immortal?”

“Immortal unless killed in combat,” Percy corrects. “The prophecy at the beginning of our quest hinted that one of us would die at the hand of a parent. Zöe knew that line referred to herself. She didn’t realize that Bianca would also die.”

Annabeth has never met Zöe, but she marvels at the girl’s courage. She knew that she was going to die, even tried to make preparations, and yet she still went on this quest. It must have been an important quest. And Bianca, too - new to the world of magic, bravely going on a quest where someone was prophesied to die, and sacrificing her life for the others.

“Thalia became the new leader of the hunters instead,” Percy continues. “If this threat with the pearl gets big enough, there’s a chance we might run into them. Grover and I returned and when I broke the news to Nico...obviously he didn’t take it very well. He ran into the night and disappeared. This is the first time I’ve seen him since.”

“Where has he been?” Annabeth glances around the dark chamber and shudders. “Not here, I hope.”

“His father is Hades, the god of the Underworld. I imagine he’s been around.”

Hades? No wonder the kid is so dark and creepy. Nico is probably just as strong as Percy is - but instead of his powers being ocean-related, they're death related.

“Last time I saw him, he didn’t even know who his dad was. I suspected it, but today confirms it. I hadn’t realized how powerful he’d become - or how angry he still was.”

“It’s not your fault,” Annabeth says, reaching out and setting her hand on his arm. “We don’t choose what happens to us, but we can decide how we react. He’s young and immature. He’s looking for someone else to blame his problems on.”

“That’s a trait he unfortunately received from his father.” 

“You’ve met Hades?”

“More times than I wish.”

Before Annabeth can ask, the shadows in front of them bend outward and Nico comes stumbling forward. His skin is even paler than before, and he uses his sword as a cane to prop himself up. In his other hand, he’s holding a wine skin and a lumpy sack.

“We’re ready,” he says, not meeting their eyes. Percy and Annabeth stand and follow him to the middle of the chamber, where Nico had commissioned a skeleton to dig a six-foot hole. He begins chanting in an ancient language and pours the red wine down. When the liquid begins bubbling, looking almost like blood in every way except consistency, he upends the sack and dumps a variety of food into it.

Faintly glowing ghosts begin to appear, edging towards the pit. Nico continues chanting, but he holds out his sword, keeping them at bay. Annabeth’s skin prickles and without realizing it she wraps her arm around Percy’s. He also holds out his sword as ghosts crowd around them, but the spirits don’t seem as intimidated by him as they do Nico.

One spirit appears, the group parting for her as she approaches the pit, kneels down, and drinks. As she stands, her form solidifies.

Annabeth stares at the girl, who looks worlds different than the boy chanting. While Nico looks exactly as she would imagine the son of the god of the Underworld to look like, Bianca looks startlingly normal. She has long, dark brown, wavy hair that falls to her waist. Her skin shines like ivory, and her brown eyes are warm. She has a bow slung over her shoulder and a silver hair clip in place by her temple.

Nico stops chanting, and his sword drops at his side. “Bianca,” he gasps.

She looks sadly at him. “You have to stop,” she says, reaching out with her hand but stopping short of touching him. “You need to move on. I made my decision, and you can’t bring me back.”

“I’m the son of Hades! I can do anything!”

“You’re a lost child.” Bianca’s arm drops. Nico staggers back. “I was, too, until I found purpose in the Hunters. My time with them was short, but I did so much good. You’re so much stronger than I am, Nico. Imagine how much more good you could do.”

“But…” Nico glances back at Percy. “It’s not worth anything without you.”

“I’m your sister, not your soulmate. We weren’t meant to stay together forever. It was time for our paths to diverge. It is not easy being a child of Hades in this world, but I found a home. A place where I could be happy. You have to find that, too. Before you fade away.”

“I’m going to bring you back, Bianca. Then we can both be happy again.”

“Do you think seeing you like this makes me happy?” Bianca shakes her head. “I’m leaving, Nico. I’m going to be reborn in another life. You have to let me go. You can’t hold me here forever. I’m not yours to control or keep.” She reaches out again, this time touching him. Her form is already fading, but her hand on his cheek stays solid. “Goodbye, Nico.”

He reaches out for her, but she’s already faded away. The other ghosts creep back into the shadows, and the catacomb is once against plunged into darkness. Annabeth isn’t scared anymore, though; she just feels sad.

Nico stands at the edge of the pit, wiping his face with his fists.

Percy takes a step forward. “Nico - ”

“What?” Nico whirls, his eyes flashing with anger.

“I understand what you’re going through. If you need a place to go...you’d be welcome on my ship.”

“No offense, Percy, but I’m not ready to forgive you.”

Percy shrugs. “I’m not asking you to. I just wanted to give you an opportunity to follow your sister’s advice. Do some good in the world. Maybe find a home. We’re on a quest right now to find the source of the trident’s power, which was recently lost. We could really use someone as powerful as you on our side.”

To his credit, Nico looks as if he’s actually considering it. Then he shakes his head. “I work alone.”

Percy nods. “If you ever change your mind, the offer still stands.”

Nico melts into the shadows. In the distance, Annabeth hears a slight rumble. She and Percy head towards the sound, discovering that the stone door to the surface is once again open.

They emerge in daylight, blinking from the harshness of the sun. After their experience in the catacombs, neither feels like doing any more sight-seeing. They begin walking back to the ship.

“That was a really good thing you did back there,” Annabeth says, breaking the silence.

Percy’s shoulders slump. “I just wish there was more I could do. When I lost my mom, I felt angry and lost. Grover helped me, and even my father, in his own distant way, set me on the right path. But Nico...he has no one. And his dad - well, Hades isn’t winning any father of the year awards.”

“You did what you could. You gave him another option, a way to use his powers for good. I think he just needs time. He’ll come around.”

“I hope so.”

They walk the rest of the way in silence. It doesn’t escape Annabeth’s attention that this is the second time they've stumbled across demigods a second away from killing Percy because of something that happened as a result of one of his quests. Annabeth doesn’t think that Percy is a bad person by any means, but he has - inadvertently - ruined several people’s lives.

The realization hits her suddenly that a lot of her problems - her near death experiences, her inner struggle about her future, being separated from her fiancé for so long - happened as a result of Percy’s actions. If he had guided her to a ship heading towards England immediately after saving her instead of inviting her on his ship when he knew he was going on a dangerous mission that would expose her to the world of magic and gods and monsters, none of this would have happened to her. She would have long ago been back in Luke’s arms, probably married by now.

It’s not that Percy purposelessly puts people in bad situations; it’s that he doesn’t think things through. He didn’t take into consideration that there was no way he could hide this world from Annabeth when she was on his ship - and to be honest, he didn’t even try. One of the first things he did was take her to Rachel’s cave. When he released those pirates on Circe’s island, he didn’t even think about the consequences for the serving girls. And when he let Nico run away, already suspecting that the boy was a child of Hades, he didn’t realize what a dark path it would allow him to pursue.

She remembers what Grover said to her in Sardinia, when Percy wrapped up Medusa’s head and sent it to the gods: _“Don’t worry. He does this kind of thing all the time.”_

Percy may be strong and powerful, but he’s got zero impulse control and almost no foresight. Annabeth will have to watch out for that as long as she’s with him. She doesn’t need him creating any more enemies - incidentally or on purpose.

She just hopes that they don’t run into anyone else who feels entitled to get revenge on him, but she has the feeling that they’ve just scratched the surface.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence
> 
> Author's Note: This chapter is a direct continuation from the last one

**Chapter 13**

Percy and Annabeth are just returning to the docks when they hear the sound of battle.

An explosion rocks the entire ground and black smoke puffs into the air. Percy and Annabeth glance at each other before sprinting past the wharf and across the beach. At the very end of the harbor, where the _Pax_ was anchored, a fire rages. Another ship unloads another round of canons even as they watch.

Percy cusses under his breath and they run across the dock, up the gangplank, and onto their burning ship.

Chaos reigns as his sailors run around, trying desperately to fire their own canons back. Beckendorf is busy, his fingers flying as he runs around and rigs his various weapons. He turns his head and covers his ears as a jar of Greek fire is shot out of a mini catapult. His aim is true and the jar explodes against a cannon on the opposite ship, which triggers a chain reaction from a few of the other cannons.

While Percy summons up a wave to douse out the fires on his ship, Annabeth gets a good look at the other ship. It’s plated in metal, a crimson red flag and a gray flag with a boar and a spear flying from the mast. Annabeth has seen that flag before.

She grabs Percy’s arm. “Those are Ares’ colors!” she cries out.

“But that’s not the _Bloody Boar_.”

“So it’s not his flagship, but it’s definitely one of the ships from his fleet.”

Annabeth runs to the edge of the deck and gets a better look at the ship. “The _CSS Birmingham_ ,” she reads. “That sounds American.” Her eyes travel to the figurehead, which is a skeletal horse. After their experience in the catacombs, Annabeth isn’t thrilled.

A muscular pirate with a black sleeveless vest revealing their massive biceps comes charging out on the opposite deck. It’s only when they start yelling orders that Annabeth realizes it’s a _she_.

“Get your lazy bums to the canons! We’re not done with these sea scum yet!”

Annabeth stares in shock at the female pirate. Unlike Hylla and Reyna, who were regal, cold, and beautiful, this girl is one hundred percent pirate. She cusses up a storm as she orders her sailors about, wears male clothing (and not adjusted to fit her size, like Annabeth - she wears straight up men’s sizing), and has her hair pulled back in a traditional male style. She waves a spear around and has a thick sword hung from her belt. Her voice is deep and gruff, as if she’s spent a lot of time yelling.

“Clarisse,” Percy says, making the name sound like a swear.

“Who?” Annabeth asks. She doesn’t recognize the girl, although she’d spent a week aboard Ares’ ship.

“She’s Ares’ demigod daughter. I didn’t know she had her own ship.” 

One of the sailors turns to look at them, and Annabeht realizes with a jolt that it’s a skeleton. As she looks more closely at the crew members, she realizes they’re all undead and in various stages of decomposition. All of them bear marks of their cause of death - bruised and twisted necks, jacked up bones, burnt skin, bullet holes, gaping sword slashes.

“Ares can control the dead, too?” Annabeth asks, a feeling of dread filling her. She’s not sure what’s worse - being surrounded by skeletons in a dark catacombs, or out on the open sea. At least in the catacombs, they felt like they belonged. Here, on the seas, she thought she was safe from that kind of threat.

“Only those who were on the losing side of a battle,” Frank says, approaching behind them. He has his bow in his hand and his quiver strapped over his back. “Percy, I’m glad you’re back. What took so long? I sent out some sailors to find you, but you seemed to have disappeared.”

“Long story,” Percy says. “Let’s just say we’ve already had our fill of skeletons for the day. How long has Clarisse been here?”

“Not too long. You came just in time.”

One of the cannons fire, and the deck railing on the opposite side of the ship explodes. One of their crew members screams as he’s thrown overboard by the explosion. Percy reaches out and catches him with a wave that washes over the deck, depositing him safely back. Will rushes over and pulls him to the side before attending to his injuries.

Frank notches an arrow, lines it up with the hole the cannon had fired from, and looses. A second later, the entire cannon explodes, wood and metal falling to the water.

“Nice,” Percy says.

“That was my last exploding arrow,” Frank says ruefully. “I hope you have a better strategy than us taking potshots at each other until one of our ships sinks.”

Percy digs in a trunk bolted down by the main mast, pulling out a white flag. He attaches it to a board and begins waving it in full view. Across the water, Annabeth can hear Clarisse shouting something not very nice and containing the word “coward”.

A few minutes later, Clarisse and a dozen skeletal warriors are standing on the deck of the _Pax_ , sneering in their direction.

“You just get wimpier every time I see you,” she says, her lip curling up as she regards Percy. “And honestly, having trampy women on your ship?” Her eyes flicker to Annabeth.

Annabeth has been stretched far too thin today. Her heart hasn’t stopped racing since the catacombs and she’s only still standing because of the pure adrenaline pumping through her veins. She doesn’t even think before whipping out her bronze knife and shoving into Clarisse’s face.

“Call me trampy one more time,” she hisses.

Clarisse laughs and glances down at the knife. “That’s real cute, sweetheart. Now let the big kids talk.”

Annabeth narrows her eyes but when Frank sets a hand on her shoulder, she lowers her weapon and takes a step back. The only reason she stands down is because she realizes that they’re meeting under a truce - and killing someone under a flag of truce has to break at least a dozen codes, if not give her a go-straight-to-the-fields-of-punishment ticket for when she dies.

“What are you doing here, Clarisse?” Percy asks. He doesn’t look scared of her, just tired.

“I’m here to pulverize you. You humiliated my father and everyone who flies his colors. I won’t let you get away free from that.”

Percy sighs. “If your father has a problem with me, why doesn’t he just take it up with me himself?”

“Gods don’t go after puny mortals. That’s why they have demigod children.”

“Yeah, to do their dirty work for them. That’s just an excuse. I think your dad’s scared of me. He didn’t seem awfully eager to fight me in Tortuga, and I know he saw me in that tavern.”

“Ares isn’t a coward! He’s the god of war! He’s not scared of anyone, especially not some upstart boy who isn’t even a real pirate! You’re just an errand boy for the gods.” Clarisse spits to the side. “What does it feel like, running every time a god calls for you? You’re like an obedient dog. You act tough, but you’re house trained.”

Percy’s eyes flash with anger. “I’m not the one who cowers to my father. At least I stood up to Ares and fought him! You just tremble at his feet and beg him for opportunities to prove yourself.”

Clarisse’s fingers wrap more tightly around her spear. “I don’t cower in front of anyone, especially not you, Percy Jackson!” She suddenly flips the spear and stabs it at Percy. He takes a step back, but the shaft lights up with blue lightning and sends an electrical charge shooting out right at his chest. He’s blasted right off the ship, the smell of singed hair left in his wake.

Clarisse glares at the rest of the assembled sailors. “Who’s next?” she taunts, twirling her spear.

Everything breaks into chaos. Her skeletal warriors charge the Pax’s crew. Percy appears a moment later, a wave of water lifting him into the air and then shooting him forward. He crashes into Clarisse and they tumble across the deck, punching at each other. Annabeth ducks to avoid getting beheaded by a skeletal pirate with a rusted sword and she stabs forward with her knife, but the blade slides right between his ribs without inflicting any damage.

She backs up and deflects his next blow with the side of her knife.

All around, battle rages. Annabeth continues trading blows with her skeletal opponent, finally slicing slideways through his midsection. His bones break apart and he collapses at her feet. She hasn’t taken more than three steps to find the next opponent when she realizes that he’s already reforming, his bones stacking back up again.

“Great,” she mutters under her breath. So the undead can’t die again. How are they supposed to defeat them?

As much as Nico has creeped her out, she really wishes he was here right now. They could use a ghost king right about now.

Percy and Clarisse’s fight still rages across the main part of the deck. Percy doesn't make the mistake of getting electrocuted by her spear again. He wields Riptide against her spear, the metals ringing out as they clang together. Whenever skeletons try to approach him from the side or back, mini hurricanes swirl up and tear them apart. Unfortunately, as was the case with Annabeth’s opponent, they don’t stay down for more than a few seconds.

Beckendorf has a large hammer which he uses to smash the skeletons apart. Whenever a main bone, like a skull, hip bone, or femur is smashed to dust, it takes them a little longer to reform. 

Will has his bow and arrow, but he’s not a great shot, and most of his arrows do no more than knocking a bone out of place. He has better luck when he uses the wooden part as a club, which he swings at any that get too close.

Frank has run out of arrows and drops his bow, pulling out his golden spear instead. He swings it around, slashing skeleton warriors to the ground. When he kills them, they stay dead, but more and more are crossing over from the _Birmingham_ and swarming the _Pax_. One man can’t fight an entire army alone.

“I’ll kill you, Jackson!” Clarisse screams over the din of battle. She stabs forward, her speartip jabbing into Percy’s side. He winces, but after a wave crashes over the two of them, Annabeth can see that the wound is already healing. Clarisse wipes the water out of her eyes and glares at him.

“The sea is my element. You can’t kill me here!” he yells back at her. “Surrender now, while I’m giving you the chance!”

“The sea may be your element, but war is mine! I’ll never surrender to a punk like you!” Clarisse sweeps her spear at him, which he jumps back to avoid, and they continue fighting.

Annabeth trips over the hem of her dress and falls on her butt on the deck. The skeleton attacking her rips a rib from his chest and chucks it at her like a knife. She rolls to the side even as it thunks into the wood where her head had been a moment before.

“Not cool,” she says, hoisting up her skirts and jumping to her feet. 

Suddenly there’s a deafening _crack!_ and a shockwave goes through the entire ship, sending everyone stumbling back and reducing the skeletons to a pile of bones. Annabeth glances over and sees that Percy has cut straight through Clarisse’s spear, the weapon releasing one last charge as it's destroyed.

He holds up a fist and brings it forward, slamming a wave straight into her chest. She falls on her butt, her stringy hair coming free of its bun and hanging in front of her eyes. Percy points his sword down at her.

“Do you surrender now?” he asks.

Clarisse glowers up at him from underneath her wet hair. “Children of Ares never surrender,” she growls. She reaches into her boot and pulls out a knife, slashing it at Percy’s knees. He jumps back and the fight resumes, the skeletons once again reassembling.

Annabeth’s arms are tired from swinging her knife, and she feels completely depleted of energy. She and Percy had already been in one major confrontation today - is it too much to ask for only one battle with skeletons in any given afternoon?

The other sailors are also beginning to tire. Frank’s spear swings are slower than before. Will is backed up to the cabin on the deck, trying to fend off three skeletons at once. The shaft of Beckendorf’s handle is splintered on one end. The _Pax_ itself groans as it lists to the side and back, the already weak boards creaking in protest.

If the skeletons would stay destroyed when they cut or crushed them up, they would have won long ago. As it is, Annabeth isn’t even sure they can win.

Suddenly a figure stumbles out from the shadow of the mast. Annabeth blinks in surprise as none other than the son of Hades appears. He looks terrible, his eyes bloodshot and struggling to stay open, his arms shaking as he draws his strange black sword.

Another figure appears at his side - not a human, but a large black dog with red eyes and fangs. It snarls at a skeleton and then jumps on it, ripping its head off with its large jaws. The skeleton crumbles into dust and blows away with the wind.

Nico holds up his sword and begins chanting in Greek. At first nothing happens, but after Annabeth decapitates her skeleton opponent for the sixth time, it crumbles into dust instead of reforming. Nico may be too weary to control the skeletons himself - and after the stunt he pulled in the catacombs, controlling those hundreds of corpses and summoning his dead sister’s ghost, Annabeth is shocked he can still even stand - but at least he’s ensuring that they return to the Underworld.

The battle shifts almost instantly. Clarisse sees it and screams out in anger and frustration. She attacks Percy with a renewed interest, but Nico’s arrival has boosted everyone’s strength.

Soon all the skeletons are gone and only Clarisse remains, backed up against the railing of the ship. As much as Annabeth dislikes her, she’s at least impressed at how fearless the daughter of Ares is, even surrounded by enemies with no hope of victory.

“You may have won this battle, Jackson, but it won’t be our last,” she threatens.

“My fight isn’t with you, Clarisse. Tell your father to man up and fight me himself.”

At the mention of her father, Clarisse blanches a little. Then her sneer returns. “That’s such a classic you thing to do. You think that just because you saved Olympus once you order the gods around. I hate to break it to you, Jackson, but they don’t care about you. None of them do. Not even you crusty, barnacle-covered father. They’re just using you. This is all for nothing. You’re going to die just like the rest of us and none of them will care.”

“I know,” Percy says, his expression turning sad. “But it’s the same for you. Do you honestly think your father cares about you? The only reason he sent you after me was because he didn’t know what else to do with you, and he thought it would be amusing to pitch us against each other. We’re only feeding into their wishes when we fight.”

“It’s not like that,” Clarisse argues.

“It’s exactly like that. You don’t have to pretend anymore. I know your father, and I know the gods.”

The angry expression falls off of Clarisse’s face, and for a moment Annabeth sees a lost girl - it’s almost the same expression Nico had one his face after he spoke to Bianca.

“Whatever,” Clarisse finally spits out. “Whatever you’re going to do to me, get it over with.”

Percy sheathes his sword. “I’m not going to do anything to you.”

She blinks in surprise. “You’re just...letting me go?”

“I don’t kill other demigods. Not unless I have to. We already have enough things trying to kill us without being at each other’s throats.”

Clarisse hesitates, staring at him like she doesn’t believe this is really happening. Then she shakes her head. “Don’t think anything’s changed, Jackson. You’re wrong to be merciful. Next time I’ll be back with even more cannons and warriors.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

Clarisse whistles and a skeletal horse, not unlike the figurehead, comes jumping off the deck of her ship. It runs across the water, vertically up the side of the _Pax_ , and skids to a stop on the deck. It paws and snorts fire as Clarisse climbs aboard.

She digs her heels into the side and it shoots away. The _Birmingham_ , now devoid of its skeletal crew, begins to sink, the water steaming and boiling where it disappears. Although the water is too shallow this close to shore for such a large ship to sink in, it still disappears completely.

Percy turns around just in time for the large black dog to jump on him. He falls back against the deck and the dog begins to lick his face in earnest.

“Alright, alright,” Percy says, trying to shove away the slobbering face. “I missed you too, Mrs. O’Leary.”

Once he frees himself from the dig he crosses the deck to Nico, who’s slumped against the base of the mast. Will kneels beside him, offering a canteen of nectar and a block of ambrosia.

“You came back to help us,” Percy says, not hiding the surprise in his voice.

“Yeah, well.” Nico reaches up and scratches the back of his neck. His cheeks are pink. “Bianca told me I had to start using my powers for good. And Mrs. O’Leary wouldn’t stop begging to see you again.”

Percy scratches behind the dog’s ears. The dog is so big he doesn’t even have to lean down. “I didn’t know you were watching out for her.”

“She’s a creature of the Underworld. Like me.”

“But that doesn’t mean you have to become part of the Underworld,” Will admonishes, shoving a brick of ambrosia into his hands. “No more shadow travel for a week. You’re literally fading into the shadows.”

Nico looks embarrassed by all the attention. Annabeth is afraid he might disappear again just to get some space, so she steps forward and grabs the spotlight.

“What do we need to do to repair the ship?” she asks. “If I’m not mistaken, we need to set sail for the Straits of Messina if we want to get the pearl before anyone else.”

Percy nods. “All hands on deck. Beckendorf is in charge of all repairs. Report to him for duty. We need to be setting sail by morning.”

“Everyone except you,” Will says, glancing up at Percy. “Just because you’re not fading into shadows doesn’t mean you haven’t overworked yourself as well. Go take a nap.”

“I’m not going to melt into sea foam,” Percy complains. “They need my help with the ship.”

Will raises an eyebrow. “Do you really want to test that theory?”

Percy disappears into his cabin without another word. Will turns his attention to Annabeth.

“Will you help me get Nico down to the infirmary? Then you need to take a nap, too. I don’t know what happened with you, Percy, and Nico in Naples, but all three of you look on the verge of collapse.”

Annabeth lifts one arm under Nico’s and Will takes the other side. If Nico wasn’t already passed out, Annabeth is sure he would be throwing a fit.

She doesn’t realize how tired she is until they lay Nico down on one of the cots. As she straightens up, she stumbles a bit. Her mending calf cries out in pain, and she winces.

“You know, a nap doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” she says, unable to even make it to the door, let alone her room. She collapses on a cot and the last thing she sees before passing out is Will rolling his eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence
> 
> Author's Note: sorry in advance!

**Chapter 14**

The city of Messina comes into view, the _Pax_ ’s last stop before sailing through the straits and claiming the pearl. Annabeth thought that everyone would be eager that their quest is coming to a close, but the entire crew seems on edge. They glance furtively at the narrow channel of water between the island of Sicily and the boot tip of Italy.

“There’s a lot of legends about that strait,” Beckendorf tells her. “A lot of shipwrecks have happened there. Many have straight up disappeared.”

“We have Percy on our side,” Annabeth says. “We’ll be fine.”

“Percy may be powerful for a mortal, but he’s nothing compared to some of the things that lurk in the shadows of our world. If you thought the kraken was bad, you have no idea.”

Annabeth realizes how deadly serious Beckendorf is being. “Have you been having nightmares?” she asks, lowering her voice.

He doesn’t meet her eyes. “We all have. There’s something evil that waits for us in the Straits of Messina.”

She stares out over the city, not wanting to admit that she’s also been having dreams. Always the beach one - white dress, funeral pyre, storm clouds in the distance. Then there’s Luke, holding Percy’s sword. There’s that ship, the big, awful ship with the snapping turtle figurehead and a black flag with a skeletal mermaid snapping in the wind. It comes more clearly into focus with each dream. Standing on the deck is the man with curly black hair, dark blue eyes the color of the sea during a storm, holding out a hand with the pearl glowing brightly. He makes eye contact with her and smiles slowly, cruelly.

Annabeth always wakes in a sweat. Of all the scary scenes in her dream, the thing she finds most disturbing is the lack of Percy. She doesn’t know what happened to him, and that unsettles her even more than the pirate who looks very similar to him - the Evil Not-Percy.

Is that what awaits them in the strait of Messina?

Will walks up next to them, looking more well-rested and in brighter spirits than the rest of them. Either he hasn’t been having nightmares, or he’s found a way to ignore them.

“Messina,” he says in disgust. “This is where the Black Plague first entered Western Europe, you know. A ship from Caffa floated in on the tides, everyone on board dead or dying of the plague. It absolutely ravaged the population. Two hundred years later, the Spanish came in, took over the city, and made it glorious again. One of the best cities in Europe, many people claim.”

“So what happened?” Annabeth asks, glancing at the downtrodden buildings ahead. The closer they get, the more run-down the city appears. 

“There was a second wave of plague a few years ago,” Will crosses his arms. “The city was already in decline after some revolutions, and that was all it took.”

Annabeth can see where the city has potential. In her mind, she’s already imagining the changes she would make - fix up that fortress, clear those houses and completely rebuild them; the row of houses over there could stay, but they need to be completely renovated and maybe put another level on them…

“Honestly, I don’t want to step foot there. All it takes is one deceased rat or person and our mission is over - forever.” Will shudders.

“We’re not going in the city,” Beckendorf assures him. “There’s a small village outside of it. It’s been protected over the years - it’s part of our world.”

“You’ve been there before?”

“We sailed the Mediterranean more in the early days, back when it was just Percy and I. Percy’s originally from Greece, you know.”

“When did you stop coming to the Mediterranean as often? We’ve only been a couple times since I’ve been on board, and never this far south, and I’ve been with the _Pax_ for almost a year now.”

“Greece reminds Percy of his past. It’s also the birthplace of the gods - of his, uh, estranged side of the family. Not to mention that his trip to the Sea of Monsters was a huge turn-off.”

A couple hours later, nearing midday, they anchor not too far off the coast. Despite everyone’s nightmares and earlier moods, there’s a current of excitement running through the ship. The moral picks up noticeably. Annabeth climbs in a rowboat with Beckendorf and Percy as everyone heads to shore.

“What’s so special about this village?” she asks.

“It’s one of the only safe places in the world for people like us,” Beckendorf says. “The village has magic borders that keeps out monsters and regular mortals. A lot of people who don’t want to be on the constant run from monsters make their home here.”

Annabeth sees a shimmer in the air about a hundred yards from the shoreline. They must have crossed through the magic border. Percy uses the waves to carry them to shore and they drag their boat onto the sand and tie it off. There’s a forest ahead of them with a sandy path leading straight through.

Beckendorf takes the lead, his long strides leaving them scrambling to catch up. Annabeth has never seen him so excited before.

The forest opens up after a few minutes of walking, revealing a large open area. Annabeth stops and tries to comprehend all that she’s seeing.

There’s a complete Roman town spread out in front of her - not a modern Roman-turned-Italian town, like most of Italy, but an actual, classical, Roman town. There’s a senate building, a forum, a circus maximus and a coliseum grouped together on one side. Not a hundred yards from the government buildings are several rows of houses, split into halves by a massive stone aqueduct that runs in from the forest behind the houses. To the right of the houses is a small hill dotted with shrines and statues.

On the other half of the valley are a few long buildings that Annabeth realizes are barracks. There’s also a building with steam coming out of it - a bathhouse. A large field lies between the barracks and the cluster of government buildings, and a few figures in armor and swords are sparring with each other. The smell of fresh baked bread drifts over from the town.

“Welcome to New Rome,” Frank says, coming up behind Percy and Annabeth. He has a wide smile on his face. “Home.”

Percy looks more relaxed, but not in the same way as Frank. Annabeth remembers what Beckendorf had said on the ship - _“Percy’s originally from Greece, you know.”_

“New Rome is one of the only safe places for us,” he explains. “The other is in Greece. Camp Half-Blood. That’s where I first went when I learned about my father and this world. I spent a few months there training to use my powers and my sword. That’s where I met Beckendorf. We left shortly after and set off on our own.”

“It’s like stepping back in the past,” Annabeth breathes as a couple men in togas exit the senate house.

“If you think this is impressive, you should see New Athens. That place is almost as old as the original Athens - and it had already been sending out heroes for centuries when the original Rome started forming.”

They start down the path. A cry goes up from some people milling around when their group is spotted entering the town, and a girl with dark hair drops her basket and comes running down the path, lifting her skirts with her hands. She jumps right into Beckendorf’s arms, and Annabeth suddenly understands why he was so excited to come.

A few of the other sailors also meet up with their sweethearts. A girl with dark skin and wildly curly hair greets Frank with a kiss. A guy and a girl greet Will, though their reunion seems more family-like than romantic. Nico hangs out in the shadows of the forest until Will drags him forward and begins introducing him.

The only person to greet Percy is a blond-haired guy in a toga with a small scar on his lower lip. He smiles and shakes Percy’s hand.

“Nice to see you again, Percy.”

Percy half-turns her way. “Annabeth, this is Jason. He’s a senator and one of the leaders around here.”

Jason bows slightly. “Nice to meet you.”

Annabeth returns the greeting, and the boys turn back to each other.

“How long are you going to stay?” Jason asks. “I’ve already alerted the kitchens - you’ll have a proper welcome feast.”

“We’ll just be here for the night.”

“Oh.” Jason looks disappointed.

“We’re on an important mission from my dad. Time sensitive.”

Jason nods. “I understand. The gods aren’t to be kept waiting. At least you can hang back and relax for one night.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk about something with you before dinner.” Percy glances around and lowers his voice. “It’s about my mission.”

“Of course.” Jason glances back at Annabeth. “Let me get Piper. She can show Annabeth around while we talk.”

A few minutes later a girl with deeply tanned skin and chocolate brown hair appears. Her hair is choppily cut and has a few braided strands interspersed, but instead of looking messy it just looks effortlessly gorgeous. She’s wearing a turquoise Greek-style dress with golden armbands. She smiles warmly at Annabeth.

“I’m Piper,” she says. “I heard you came on Percy’s ship.”

“Yeah. I’m Annabeth.”

Piper immediately loops her arm in hers and begins showing her around New Rome. Annabeth finds herself absolutely fascinated and she asks a million questions about the architecture - most of which Piper can’t answer, but she laughs and tries her best. Annabeth instantly likes her.

On the hill with all the shrines, Annabeth notices that the temples for Zeus, Bellona, and Mars are cleaned, the gold polished and shining, fires burning on the altars, and fresh offerings laid out at the feet of the statues. The shrine to Neptune, on the other hand, is not much more than a cracked and grimy salt fountain with a few rotten apple cores.

“Percy once said that the Romans feared Neptune, but they didn’t love him,” Annabeth says, staring at the fountain and feeling sad. She can only imagine how Percy must have felt the first time he saw it.

“The Romans didn’t appreciate the sea the way they should have,” Piper agrees. “They loved their gods of war, but they failed to recognize that without the sea, they wouldn’t have been able to transport their armies to any of the regions they conquered.”

“That was their fatal flaw - the Romans had a warped worldview. They were blind to their own faults.” Annabeth moves along the grouping of shrines to the one for Bellona. “We met a pair of female pirates who were daughters of Bellona a couple weeks ago. They had taken over Blackbeard’s ship.”

Piper grins. “Really? I would have loved to meet them.”

“Maybe not.” Annabeth retells her the story of their encounter with Hylla and Reyna.

Piper stares at her with growing shock. “And you defeated him? Just like that? No wonder Percy wants you on his ship.”

Annabeth’s face grows hot. “Piper...how well do you know Percy?”

“I’ve been on a couple mini-quests with him and Jason. Why?”

She opens her mouth and closes it. She’s not sure what exactly she wants to ask the girl. It’s just that all the crew members - Beckendorf, Frank, Will - have either a godlike admiration for Percy or they’re his best friend. She wants a more impartial opinion.

“One of the things I’ve noticed about him is that he...he acts without thinking a lot of the time. He’s not arrogant, just...impulsive. It’s almost like he thinks himself invincible. I’ve asked his friends about it, and they always say things like, ‘Oh, no one dares touch the son of Poseidon!’ or ‘No one wants to mess with Poseidon’s favorite son!’”

Piper nods. “I know what you mean. He’s an extremely powerful demigod - one of the most powerful I’ve ever encountered. And it’s well-known that Poseidon favors him. But honestly, I think a lot of that is just his personality. From the first time I met him, I got major troublemaker vibes. He’s the kind of boy your father would hate.” Piper shrugs. “He’s a bit...insolent. And I don’t blame him - when you’ve been pushed around by the gods the way he has, it’s ingrained in him to rebel.”

“It just worries me. The last few close calls we’ve had - Nico, Reyna and Hylla, Clarisse - they’ve all been the result of something he did unintentionally. What happens when we meet someone he purposefully angered?”

“It sounds like he needs someone to reign him in,” Piper says, leading her back down the hill. The aroma of roasting meat fills the air and makes Annabeth’s mouth water. “I think you’re good for him, Annabeth. You’re able to step in and use reason rather than pure emotion. From what you told me about Hylla and Reyna, you were able to smooth things over rather than make them worse. He’s taken you on all his side quests so far, right? That means he sees it, too. He knows you help temper his emotional outbursts.”

“It doesn’t always stop him, though,” Annabeth laments, thinking of the box with Medusa’s head that he sent to the gods.

“And you won’t always be able to. Percy’s not dumb - he’s very much aware of his faults. Too aware, if I’m being honest. He doesn’t think very highly of himself. He doesn’t see himself as a hero, so he doesn’t always make an effort to do the right thing and act like one all the time. He needs you to be the voice that reminds him of how much he’s worth, and that his consequences do have actions.”

Annabeth glances over at Piper. “You seem to know him better than you let on.”

Piper twists a stand of hair around her finger. “I’ll admit that I spent my first couple quests comparing him to Jason. They’re very similar in terms of who they are and what they’ve done, but their attitudes are completely different. I think a lot of it has to do with their background. Jason was born and raised as a Roman, and discipline and respect is hard-wired into his nature. Percy’s Greek, and he’s more wild and independent. Jason would never dare talk back to a god, let alone fight one, and he’s always very careful to tie up every loose end.”

“Isn’t that exhausting? I mean, it’s smart, yeah, and saves a lot of suffering in the long run, but how does he find time for it?”

“It is exhausting,” Piper agrees. “That’s why he doesn’t go on many quests anymore. He’s even trying to step down from his leadership position here. He wants what all heroes want, but so few get - a quiet, peaceful life.”

They step into the open-air banquet lounge, where air nymphs are flying around, setting out plates and cups and silverware. In the corner, Percy and Jason are speaking intensely. Annabeth and Piper pause in the doorway and watch them.

Annabeth can never imagine Percy settling down quietly. He has too much weight on his shoulders. Although he doesn’t talk about it, she knows he’s still torn up about what happened to his mother. He still blames himself for it. He feels responsible for all of his crew members, and he takes each casualty personally. He has a complicated history with the godly side of his family, especially with his father.

Percy isn’t happy.

Annabeth has seen it before, but she hasn’t really comprehended it until now. Talking with Piper, hearing her own insights and fears parroted back...She truly sees it now. He’s not a happy person. He’s suffered, and he keeps suffering, and he’s running himself into the ground. He’s trying to make his father proud of him by completing all these quests, but everyone else already seems to think that his father favors him over all his other children. He’s trying to prove something that’s already been proven. He’s letting the gods walk all over him, yet at the same time he’s picking fights and sticking up the proverbial middle finger at them every chance he gets. He knows several safe places where he could settle down and be surrounded by his friends, but instead he sails around to the most dangerous places and fights all the monsters that he can.

She had thought that Nico was lost the first time she saw him, but now she sees that Percy is just as lost. Percy just does a much better job of hiding it than Nico.

“When I first saw him today, he was happier than I’ve seen him in years,” Piper remarks, drawing Annabeth out of her thoughts. “I’m glad you guys found each other.”

For some reason, Annabeth feels really disappointed. She almost doesn’t want to correct Piper, but she has to.

“No, we’re not - I’m just on his ship temporarily. He helped me escape from Ares, who kidnapped me and took me to Tortuga while he tried to get a ransom from my family. I’m going back to England as soon as this quest is over.”

“Really?” Piper glances over Annabeth. “You wear those pirate clothes like you were born to. Somehow I can’t picture you in one of those ridiculously poofy and frilly dresses.”

“They’re not my favorite,” Annabeth agrees. “But I’m not interested in this life. Not permanently. I was just craving some adventure before I settled down and got married.”

“And Percy knows this?” Piper nods her head his way.

“Of course. We’ve been very open about this from the beginning.”

Piper’s eyes dance in the evening sunlight. She doesn’t say anything. Annabeth's mind drifts back to her earlier train of thought. She thinks about what Piper said about comparing Percy and Jason, and almost instantly she begins viewing Luke and Percy side by side.

Luke and Percy are both fighters: Luke fought for the British army in Europe, and Percy fights for the gods. They both lost their mothers when they were young: Luke’s mother went insane, and Percy’s mother was killed. They both have issues with their dads: Luke and his father fight a lot, and Percy is estranged from his father. Despite their backgrounds, they’ve both made a name for themselves: Luke is well known in the upper society circles and as a soldier and Percy is a hero. And they both carry around a lot of sadness.

Annabeth will never forget when Luke returned home with the scar on his face for the first time. When the light hits it just right, it looks like the path a tear makes as it falls. It matched the clouds that dulled his once bright blue eyes. He was a changed man when he came back from the war; colder, more mature. Annabeth didn’t love him any less, but she still had to adjust to this new version of himself.

She wonders what Percy was like before he became a pawn of the gods. She wonders if he was goofy - sometimes she gets a hint of that side of him, when they’re messing around on deck or when they were walking about Naples. It’s only a hint, though, and it’s gone before she really gets a grasp on it.

She wonders how much she’s changed since joining this quest. Will she be as much a stranger to Luke as he was to her when he first came back? Annabeth can’t imagine she’ll be as sad as he was, but she knows she’s different. She’s fought monsters, faced skeletal warriors, and even killed a man. Will he see all of that when he looks at her? Will he even want her?

Annabeth hadn’t even considered that she may not be wanted back. She thought she had a choice for the future, but maybe she made that choice the moment she stepped foot on the _Pax_.

There’s a flurry of activity and a group of people begin flooding in the banquet room. Piper takes Annabeth’s arm and leads her over to Jason and Percy. Frank and his girlfriend, who he introduces as Hazel, join them later.

The meal is crazy, to say the least. Although Annabeth starts at their table, they soon all move after the first course. Percy takes her around the entire room, introducing her to a flurry of people she knows she won’t remember. Names and faces blur around like crazy. Other than Hazel, Jason, and of course Piper, the only other new person she remembers is Beckendorf’s girlfriend, Silena.

Silena is the most beautiful girl Annabeth has ever set eyes on. She’s not the kind of envious beautiful that many girls are - Silena is simply naturally beautiful. She wears a simple blush-colored Greek-style dress and has the front part of her hair pulled to the back, allowing the rest of the soft black waves to tumble down around her shoulders and halfway down her back. Her almond eyes are warm and her pink lips curve into a graceful smile. She practically sits on Beckendorf’s lap the entire time, one of his arms never leaving her waist. Her laugh sounds like music. To top it all off, she’s also one of the nicest, most down-to-earth people Annabeth has ever met. Annabeth can’t even be mad at how perfect she is.

Watching Silena and Beckendorf and how happy they are together, it makes Annabeth’s heart ache. Of course she’s happy for her friend, but she also realizes how much she misses being that close and intimate with someone.

After the meal, the nymphs rush in to clear out the area. Silena loops her arm through Annabeth and leads her into the city of New Rome.

“What’s going on?” Annabeth asks.

“The party is going to start soon! And you are not dressed up enough. Come, I’m sure I can find something that will fit you.”

If it was anyone else, Annabeth would have said no, but there’s something about Silena that makes Annabeth wordlessly go along with her. Silena pulls open her wardrobe and takes out a few dresses, holding them up against Annabeth before shaking her head.

She finally settles on a pale blue dress in the same Greek-style that Piper and Silena both wore. Most of the other girls that Annabeth saw, Hazel included, wore Roman-style dresses. 

Annabeth slips the dress on. The flowy fabric has two silver clasps at her shoulders, just past her collarbone, and it flows down to her waist in a u-shape. The bottom part of the dress falls straight down, cinching in slightly at the waist. It really is beautiful. Silena loans Annabeth some silver cuffs that latch on just under her elbow and helps her pin her hair back so that a few curly strands frame her face while the rest are pulled up.

Silena clasps her hands together. “You look so gorgeous! You’d make Aphrodite jealous. Here, borrow these sandals - they’ll match it perfectly.”

Silena doesn’t change her dress, but she restyles her hair and adds some golden jewelry. Then they head back to the banquet hall, which has been radically changed. The tables and couches have been folded up and pushed to the side to leave the space open. A small group of musicians play harps and other traditional instruments in the corner of the room, and the torches along the wall have been lit. In the distance, the sun is setting and painting the sky hues of pink and orange.

Beckendorf has changed into clean clothes, and he and Silena head into the middle of the room, where a few other couples and single people have started to dance. Annabeth sees Frank and Hazel fumbling around, red-faced and laughing as they attempt to dance (Frank may be an amazing fighter, but by the gods he’s also one of the clumsiest people Annabeth has ever met). Beckendorf doesn’t look very comfortable, either, but Silena is amazing and she more than makes up for his lack of talent. Jason and Piper are also decent, and they make a good-looking couple as well.

Some of the other crew members are talking with girls on the side, trying - with various rates of success - to get them to dance. In the darkest corner of the room, by the piled up couches, Annabeth spots Will and Nico hanging out and talking. Nico scowls at everyone except for Will, who he stares at with a neutral expression.

Annabeth stands in the back, not quite sure what to do. The only dancing she’s ever done is the formal dancing deemed socially appropriate by high society. It’s very distant and formal, although it can be fun. The kind of dancing here - well, Romans were known for partying, and even the Greeks here are letting loose.

She still feels that ache in her chest. She hadn’t realized how much she missed Luke and her family until now, seeing all her friends reunited with their loved ones and their families. As much fun as she’s had on the ship, it’s definitely lacking in certain ways. Especially being the only girl on the ship, Annabeth feels as though the others are constantly tip-toeing around her, trying not to make her feel uncomfortable or put her in an awkward situation.

The last time she’d really touched someone was when Percy saved her from the Sirens - she still remembers him wrapping his arm around her to propel them away from danger. Afterward, Annabeth had hugged him - it was a rare, impulsive move for her, but she’d felt so abandoned and heartbroken after that encounter that she couldn’t help it.

Almost as if he can read her mind, Percy materializes next to her. The sun has gone almost completely down by now, and the only break in the darkness is the flickering light from the torches.

“This is a nice party,” Annabeth says, trying to make conversation. “The Romans sure know what they’re doing.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Bacchus or Dionysus shows up in some form tonight. A part of his essence travels to wherever there’s a party.”

A guy with black curly hair and stained red lips staggers past them, lifting a wine skin to his mouth. Annabeth raises an eyebrow. “Is that him?”

“No, but close. That’s his son.”

They stand in silence for a minute. Annabeth can feel Percy looking at her, so she stares straight ahead. She can’t stop thinking about how it felt when she hugged him or when they were underwater together. That happened weeks ago - why is she thinking about it now?

“I like your dress,” Percy suddenly spits out. “Blue is my favorite color.”

Annabeth glances over at him. Despite her irritation at herself, she can’t help but smirk. He looks so awkward and uncomfortable right now - so much different than the confident hero she’s seen him be.

She remembers what Piper said about him earlier: _“Percy’s very much aware of his faults. Too aware, if I’m being honest. He doesn’t think very highly of himself.”_

Annabeth’s smile fades. She wonders what he’s thinking of right now. Does he feel as lonely as she does?

“It makes sense, blue being your favorite color,” she says, trying to cover up the awkward silence. “Since your dad is, you know, the sea god and everything.”

“Huh. I’d never thought of it that way.” Percy frowns. “I like the color blue because one time my step-father said that food couldn’t be blue. From that day on, my mom did everything she could to make our food blue. My step-father was a terrible person, and it was one of the ways she rebelled against him.”

Percy had never mentioned having a step-father before, although it makes sense. Once his mother became pregnant without being married, there would be a terrible scandal. Since she couldn’t marry Percy’s dad, she had to marry whoever would be willing to marry a pregnant girl to protect her. Often enough, it's terrible men who take advantage of women’s vulnerability.

The story explains a lot about Percy’s personality, too - he isn’t just rebellious because of how the gods have treated him, but because it’s something his mother did and he admired. She was put in a powerless position, but she still stood up for herself. Percy most likely sees himself the same way. Instead of an abusive spouse, the gods are the ones controlling his life. And instead of proving them wrong with blue food, he’s proving them wrong by pushing back against their supreme authority.

Annabeth understands him a lot better than she ever has.

She doesn’t realize she’s staring at him until he motions to the middle of the floor. “Uh, do you want to dance?”

“Sure.”

Her heart begins pounding as he takes her hand and leads her away from the edge. For so long, Percy Jackson has been this mystery she can’t quite solve - and every time she learns something new about it, it explains one aspect of him while opening up a dozen new questions.

Percy glances around at the other couples and then tries to copy their stance. Annabeth has to bite down to keep from laughing.

“You don’t do this very often, do you?” she asks.

“Never,” he confesses.

After a bit of fumbling around (Annabeth regrets poking fun at Frank and Hazel earlier) they get into a rhythm. The musicians play a few upbeat songs, and they get caught up in the fun, spinning and twirling around with their friends. Annabeth hasn’t seen Percy smile as much as he does tonight, and she herself can’t wipe the grin off her face.

There’s something magical in the air that night - a type of magic that has nothing to do with gods or monsters or fate. It’s a type of magic that exists only among mortals on the eve of a battle. No god could ever feel this alive because they do not understand the fear of death. This magic, this feeling, is reserved for humans.

The ache inside of Annabeth disappears as the night wears on. Even though she’s never loved wearing dresses, this one feels so light airy and she loves the way the skirt twirls as Percy spins her. After weeks - months - of awkward conversations and moments on the ship, moments where they went from baring their soul to being nearly strangers for no real reason, nights where they suffered from nightmares so vivid and personal that they couldn’t share them with anyone, let alone each other, neither Annabeth nor Percy can take their eyes off each other. Every time Percy spins her, Annabeth’s head whips around so that he’s always in her sight.

The only exception is during a slower song. A lot of the couples are facing each other, but both Annabeth and Percy agree without speaking that staring into each other’s eyes during a slow song would be too much - although too much of what, exactly, is a question Annabeth isn’t sure she wants answered. Instead, Annabeth leans back against his chest and he wraps his arms around her. They sway back and forth, the motion reminding Annabeth of her nights in the hammock on the _Pax_. She closes her eyes and lets herself feel everything.

She really knows she should stop when Percy rests his face against the side of her neck and shoulder, but she isn’t even thinking. For the first time in her life, Annabeth is just letting herself feel. She’s completely lost in the moment, feeling as though she’s truly breathing for the first time in weeks.

At some point in the night, she and Percy sneak out of the banquet hall and walk through the warm, summer night air. In the darkness, Annabeth isn’t exactly sure where they are until Percy waves his hand and a soft blue glow appears. They’re at the Neptune shrine on the top of the hill. Not far below them, the muted sound of the music drifts out into the night as well the flickering of the torches.

Percy has brought the sad fountain to life. The crack repairs itself, the rotten fruit is washed away, and the rusted spigot splutters to life. The crystal clear water glows as it cascades up and then down.

They sit with their backs against the fountain, close enough that their legs are touching. Annabeth looks up at the sky and marvels at how clear the stars are.

“Do you know the constellations?” Percy asks, glancing over at her. His sea green eyes reflect the water from the fountain, making him appear ethereal and not entirely human.

“Yeah. My dad taught me them when I was a little girl.” She points straight up. “Those three stars in a line there - that’s Orion’s belt. And that cup-shaped one is a ladle.”

“It’s actually part of Ursa Major,” Percy corrects. “The Great Bear. It was actually one of Zeus’ mortal lovers who Hera turned into a bear when she found out. She’s got an attitude problem.”

“Most of the constellations are based on Greek myths.” Annabeth pauses, rethinking her words. “Well, they’re not myths, I guess.”

“I know most of the myths, but not many of the constellations,” Percy admits. “I only know Ursa Major because the star at the center of the back, Dubhe, points across the sky to Polaris. I have perfect sea bearing, but all sailors know about Polaris.”

“There’s Canis Major and Canis Minor.” Annabeth points. “Do you know what those are?” Percy shakes his head. “They’re Orion’s hunting dogs.”

“Orion didn’t have dogs last time I ran into him,” Percy mutters.

Annabeth points to another section of the sky. “That’s Cassiopeia. She boasted about being more beautiful than nymphs, so Poseidon sent Cetus, a sea monster, to ravage her kingdom. Her husband, Cepheus, consulted an oracle who told them that they had to sacrifice their daughter, Andromeda, to the sea monster. They chained her to the rocks, but your namesake, the original Perseus, saved her. What I don’t understand is why Poseidon then placed Cassiopeia and Cepheus into the sky.” She looks over at Percy, who’s staring at them.

“My father...he’s like the sea. His mood is always changing. Some days he’s the calm, still waters that lap gently against the sand. Some days he’s a raging hurricane. The nymphs probably riled him up, but by the time Andromeda was sacrificed he had calmed down enough to realize his overreaction.”

“Do you think we could ever end up in the stars?”

“Why would we?”

“Why wouldn’t we? You already did what the original Perseus did - you saved me from the kraken.”

“Not really. I just threw a jar of Greek fire at you that Beckendorf gave me and then made sure that we didn’t get blown up with the creature.”

“That’s why we’d both get to be in the stars. Equal responsibility.”

Percy shakes his head slowly. “You have to do a lot more to get into the stars these days.”

“Like what?”

Percy points to a constellation that looks like a figure stretching out a bow. “Do you know that constellation?”

Annabeth tries to recall her childhood nights spent with her father under the stars, but she doesn’t remember that one. “I don’t think I’ve seen that one before.”

“That’s because it’s only a few years old. Remember the mission I told you about, the one where Bianca died?”

She nods.

“And I told you about Zöe Nightshade, the leader of the Hunters of Artemis, who was prophesied to die at the hand of her father?”

Annabeth’s eyes widen, and she turns to face him. “That’s her?”

Percy nods. “She served as Artemis’ right hand for over three thousand years. That’s what it took her to get a place in the stars.” He leans back against the fountain wearily, and a sad look passes over his eyes. “I’ve only been serving the gods for seven years now, and sometimes I feel like I’ve hit my limit. I don’t know how she did it for thousands of years.”

“She didn’t do it alone. She had the other hunters. She shared her load.” In all the excitement of the party, Annabeth had forgotten exactly how unhappy Percy is. Now she sees it creeping back. She’s heard of poets comparing their sorrow to the sea, but those metaphors take on a completely different meaning with Percy. “You have to trust the rest of us more. We want to help you. You just have to let us.”

He looks away, leaving Annabeth feeling more frustrated than ever. “It’s not that easy,” he finally says.

“Yes, it is. You claim you’re not a hero, but you act like one, trying to do everything by yourself and not letting anyone help you. And you’re the absolute worst pirate I’ve ever heard of, because pirates aren’t supposed to be selfless leaders who risk everything for others. If you’re going to act like a hero, then at least take credit for being one. Stop downplaying everything you’ve accomplished. I would have been dead a half dozen times if it wasn’t for you. I owe you my life, Percy.”

He turns back to her, his eyes still aglow from the fountain, and by the gods if he doesn’t look like a god himself. There’s a timeless sorrow behind his eyes, as if he’s lived too long and watched too many people he cared about die, and all his accomplishments are worthless compared to the unending passage of time. For all his powers, for all his bravery, for all his sacrifice - he’s just a man. Somehow that makes him simultaneously seem like a god and like more than a god.

Annabeth still remembers her first impression of him - sitting quietly at a back table, all alone in a crowded tavern. He’s made friends and enemies along the way, discovered a whole new side to his family even as he lost the other side, and in the end he’s still the same twelve-year-old boy who lost his mother.

Percy doesn’t want to be in the stars. He doesn’t want to be remembered. He just wants to be happy.

She could make him happy. She could be happy with him. That’s all she’s thinking as they lean toward each other, the distance closing up in a breath.

Just before their lips touch, another face flashes in Annabeth’s mind, and she leans away, hating herself more than she ever has.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, unable to look him in the eyes. “I can’t. I’m engaged.”

She stands, gathers up her skirts, and runs.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence
> 
> Author's Note: RR really underused this villain

**Chapter 15**

“Percy!” Annabeth screams, the winds whipping her back and forth and the rain drenching every inch of her skin. “Percy!”

A low chuckle cuts across the wind, and a figure appears out of the storm, not a drop of water on him nor a hair out of place. As he walks closer, Annabeth recognizes the figure that’s been haunting her nightmares for the past several weeks.

“You,” she says, clutching her knife in her hand. “What have you done with him?”

“That’s not your concern anymore, now is it?” Evil Not-Percy smiles coldly. “You chose to leave. What happens in this world - to the people of this world - is no longer your business.”

“Where is he?” Annabeth brandishes her knife in front of her. He stares at it like it’s a child’s toy.

“You’re going to need a lot more than that to stop me, darling. Now, why don’t you just run along home and spend your last few hours alive with that blond soldier boy of yours?”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“No? Well, you should be.” He flicks his hand, and the water around her turns into a giant hand that grabs her by the ankle and dangles her upside down. Her knife slips from her hand and he leans down and picks it up, waving it in front of her face. “You got in over your head. Now just accept defeat. There’s nothing you can do to stop me. And there’s nothing you can do to bring him back. It’s your fault he’s gone, you know.”

Annabeth stops thrashing. “What?”

“That line of the prophecy. _The betrayal of one may be the end._ He’s been turned on before, manipulated, and used as a pawn. It’s part of being a demigod. But nothing was worse to him than your betrayal. It utterly destroyed him. I didn’t even have to do anything!” He strokes his chin with his free hand. “Maybe you are more powerful than you look.”

A sickening feeling spreads through her stomach. Before she can try and put together a response, the pirate waves his hand. The water surges forward, closing over her face. She holds her breath as long as she can, but eventually her chest contracts and she sucks up a lungful of water. Everything goes dark as she chokes.

-

Annabeth sits up in her hammock, breathing hard. Her hand is still clutching at her chest, which burns as if she’d actually been drowning. It takes her a few deep breaths to calm herself down and reassess her surroundings.

She’s back in her cabin on the _Pax_. The ship is rocking slightly, which means it’s in motion. Her eyes are swollen and crusted with salt - she’d cried most of the night even before she’d fallen asleep and had been plagued by nightmares. Her hair is a gnarled mess, and her clothes are strewn haphazardly over the floor.

Her cheeks burn red with shame as the events from last night replay through her mind, overtaking the quickly fading memory of her nightmare. Last night had been both the best night of her life and worst.

Dancing with Percy, laughing in a group of their friends, letting loose...it had been the most amazing feeling. She can still feel where Percy had touched her, a ghost sensation lingering on her skin. Her cheeks are still sore from smiling.

Then she’d ruined it all. She’d led him on, let him get too close. She shouldn’t have let him take her away from the group. She’d been letting things cross the line already, but with all those people around them, she wouldn’t have slipped and he wouldn’t have tried anything more. They could have ended the night on a fun note.

Instead they had an intense heart-to-heart on Temple Hill, they’d almost kissed, and Annabeth had ran away. She ran all the way to Silena’s house, where she’d curled up in a ball on the floor and cried for an hour until Silena finally returned for the night. She’d spilled everything to the girl, who had simply listened and rubbed her back.

It was probably a mistake to confess everything to Silena, since she probably told Beckendorf everything and the last thing Annabeth needs is two people aboard ship to hate her, but she couldn’t keep it all bottled up inside. She explained how she was confused about her emotions and how she felt torn between Percy and Luke - how similar they were, yet how different her life with each of them was. She missed Luke desperately, but she also felt pulled towards Percy like the tides to the moon.

Is it possible to love two people at the same time? In two different ways? To see happiness in two different futures?

Silena listened without judging. When the last sob finally burst out of her, the older girl swept Annabeth’s hair back from her face and then walked to the kitchen to return with a bowl of cool water and a rag. Annabeth pressed the cool cloth to her face until at least some of the swelling went down.

“Love is complicated,” Silena finally said. “It isn’t black and white. You have a hard decision ahead of you, Annabeth. I don’t envy you.”

“When I saw you with Beckendorf tonight, it made me really sad. It reminded me of how Luke and I used to be. I used to love him unconditionally, but now I’m worried that when I return, I’ll always be bitter about giving this life up.”

“You said ‘when I return’, not ‘if I return’,” Silena pointed out. “Maybe that’s a subconscious sign of what choice to make.”

“There is no real choice,” Annabeth replied dryly. “I’ve been in love with Luke for ten years. I’ve only known Percy for ten weeks.”

“People change over time. Our loyalties to and our feelings for people change over time. Don’t get hung up on your past, or else you’ll always be unhappy. You need to think about the present and future - those are the only things that truly matter.”

Annabeth shook her head, feeling the tears spring to her eyes again. “I don’t know what will make me happy. But I know I’ve hurt Percy. He’s already so unhappy. I’ve just made things much worse.” She pressed the cold rag over her face, trying to suffocate her tears before they came spilling out of her again.

“Percy is strong,” Silena said, rubbing Annabeth’s shoulders. “This won’t be the first time he’s had his heart broken.”

Annabeth peeked up. “It isn’t?”

“He and Rachel used to be a thing. I’m not sure exactly how serious it was, but she dumped him and became the Oracle. You’ve seen how they are now. They patched things up and are still good friends.”

She remembered seeing a painting on Rachel’s wall of the two of them in a carriage together. She hadn’t thought much at the time, but now she’s curious as to their past.

“Then there was Calypso. Percy was marooned on her island for a few weeks. Of course, with her curse, she was destined to fall in love with him. She offered him an eternity of peace and happiness with her, far away from the worries of the world. He would never have to do the gods’ bidding again. He would never have to fight another monster, or Titan, or giant. Over time - and he’d have an eternity of time - the pain from his past losses would fade away.”

“And he didn’t accept the offer?”

“That was another part of Calypso’s curse. The hero that found her was always in the middle of a quest. His ship was in danger. If he took her offer, he was dooming his crew to the Underworld. He left, but afterwards he told Beckendorf that Calypso was his greatest what-if. He said he’d always be haunted by what his future could have been.”

Maybe that was part of the infinite sadness that Annabeth had seen in his eyes. Maybe he regretted not staying with Calypso. Maybe he had fallen in love with the possibility of a painless, peaceful future, if not the girl herself.

“It sounds to me like Percy is your Calypso,” Silena said, running her fingers through Annabeth’s hair gently. It was almost a motherly gesture, even though Silena is only slightly older than Annabeth - and even though they’d only known each other for a few hours. “Either choice you make, you’re going to hurt someone. So don’t base your choice off of Luke or Percy’s feelings - base it off of yours. At the end of the day, you have to live with yourself.”

Silena’s advice was good, even if it doesn’t help Annabeth at all with the choice she has to make.

“How am I supposed to face him tomorrow? I’ve never felt so embarrassed in my life.”

“Face him with confidence, but don’t rub it in his face. He knew you were engaged, and he was the one who put himself in this situation. You did nothing wrong.”

“I led him on,” Annabeth argued.

“So you made a little mistake. He still should have known to have a discussion with you about it and Luke before he made a move. He’s not a victim, Annabeth. You’re both adults.”

Annabeth’s lip curled up in an almost smile. “You’re really wise, you know that?”

Silena shrugged one shoulder. “I’m good at giving out relationship advice. Beyond that, you’ll find I’m a bit lacking.”

Annabeth changed out of the dress that Silena had loaned to her and back into her pirate attire. Silena offered to let her stay the night, but Annabeth thought it would be better if she was back on ship. She didn’t want to oversleep and cause the Pax to be late for the final stage of their mission. If all goes to plan, they’ll find the pearl tomorrow. Then it’s a few weeks of straight sailing back to England, where Annabeth will be reunited with her family and Luke and say goodbye to the Pax, its crew, and its captain for the last time.

Although Annabeth had felt better after her talk with Silena, her lonely trek through New Rome and back to the ship had let her doubts and insecurities creep in. By the time she was back in her cabin, all she could see when she tried to close her eyes was the sad look in Percy’s eyes. She couldn’t believe that she contributed even more to that already bottomless well of sorrow.

It took her a long time to fall asleep and when she finally did, it was with tears streaking down her face.

Now Annabeth stands in her cabin, trying to find the courage to walk out on deck. She has no idea what awaits her - will Percy be angry? Will he yell at her, or turn a cold shoulder? Will he be upset that she boarded the ship again?

Or worse - will he be sad? Will she have to look in those sea green eyes and see so much sorrow that she bursts into tears?

And what of the others? Has Percy told anyone else anything? Did Silena tell Beckendorf what happened? Or maybe someone saw them? Nico is really good at fading into the shadows, maybe he witnessed everything.

Annabeth wishes she could hide in the cabin forever, but that’s what a coward would do. She’s already been cowardly enough, running away the way she did last night. There’s no point in hiding when she’ll eventually have to come out.

She pulls on her clothes, slides her knife into the sheath around her belt, and ties up her hair into a messy ponytail. Then she takes a deep breath before forging out.

The first person to see her when she climbs up on deck is Beckendorf. Her heart instantly races, but he just smiles at her.

“You’re up pretty late. Too much to drink last night?”

She manages a tight smile. “Something like that.” She glances around, startled to see the ship sailing through an extremely narrow pass, two land masses on either side of them. “We’re in the Straits of Messina?”

“The very same.” Beckendorf pulls on a rope, tightening up a sail. “The storm that we think the pearl was lost in happened right on the opposite mouth. We should be there in no time.”

“We’re sailing at twelve knots per hour!” Frank calls from the ship’s wheel. “The straight is seventeen nautical miles long, and we’re an hour in. Should be just a few minutes!”

Percy is standing at the bow of the ship, his arms spread out as he pushes the ship. With just the sails, the _Pax_ peaks at about seven to eight knots. With Percy pushing the currents in their favor, he nearly doubles their speed.

Annabeth is relieved that he’s too preoccupied with his sailing duties to notice her.

True to Frank’s word, not too much longer later and the mouth on the opposite side is in view. Annabeth can see the damage from the recent hurricane - trees blown sideways, stones and wood planks and other housing and ship material blown askew over the land. She wonders what pissed Poseidon off for him to do so much damage.

Suddenly Frank screams out a warning. Percy brings his arms in, and the ship shudders as he reverses the currents, slowing it down. The wind still strains against the sails, but it’s fighting the very sea itself.

The cause for Frank’s shout comes into view: a massive ship, so big that it dwarfs even the _Queen Anne’s Revenge,_ sails into the Strait, heading straight toward them. As it gets closer, Annabeth sees that the flags are black with the skeleton of a mermaid. She’s sure she’s seen that before somewhere…

As the ship pulls up alongside them, Annabeth sees the massive snapping turtle figurehead. A chill runs through her spine, and she reaches for her knife.

Percy moves to the middle of the deck, marching straight up to the railing. Frank jumps down and stands at one of his sides, Beckendorf flanking his other. Annabeth stands to the back, next to Will and Nico. Nico stares up at the ship and shakes his head.

“Not possible. He shouldn’t even be alive.”

Will and Annabeth exchange confused glances, but neither of them have time to ask him to elaborate.

A figure dressed entirely in golden armor steps to the forefront of the ship. The other sailors - thankfully human and not skeletons - grip nasty-looking weapons and leer down at them.

Percy blinks as he raises his hand to shield the glare coming off the golden armor. “Chrysaor?” he calls out, sounding perplexed.

“Not quite!” The figure pulls off the helmet, revealing familiar-looking black curls, a red bandana, and stormy blue eyes. Annabeth staggers to the side, and Will reaches out to steady her.

It’s the pirate from her nightmares. Evil Not-Percy. Of course the ship looks familiar.

“Who are you?” Percy demands. “And what are you doing with Chrysaor’s armor?”

“You don’t recognize me? I’m offended.” The pirate sets the helmet down, along with the shield, which has the uncomfortably life-like impression of Medusa’s head carved into it. “These were spoils of war. Chrysaor was a worthy opponent, but he’s a bit old fashioned. Brought a sword to a gunfight. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“For what?” Percy grips his hilt with a hand, his knuckles white from the tension in his muscles.

“For killing him before he could get to you. He wasn’t very happy that you killed his mother. He was on his way to get his revenge when I intervened. I needed a ship, and his riches were an added bonus. Do you like the renovations I’ve made?” The pirate points to the turtle figurehead. “My old friend hasn’t been reformed from Tartarus yet, but I brought him back in spirit.”

“Who are you?” Percy repeats.

The pirate sighs. “The hints are all here! But of course I shouldn’t expect you to recognize me. I was before your time.” So fast that Annabeth doesn’t even see the motion, he whips out the twin pistols tucked into his belt, fires a few rounds, twirls them between his fingers, and then replaces them. Everyone turns to the _Pax_ ’s mast, where his bullets have ripped the perfect shape of trident into the wood.

“I’m Sciron,” he says, sounding as if it were obvious. “Poseidon’s favorite - and most gifted - demigod son.”

-

Sciron is the most arrogant person Annabeth has ever had the displeasure of meeting, and she’s met a prince once. As he stands up here on the deck of his stolen ship, still wearing Chysaor’s golden armor - who Annabeth has realized was one of the sons Medusa and Posiedon had together, aka Percy and Sciron’s half brother - and bragging about himself, there’s nothing she wants more than to punch him in his pearly white teeth.

“I was actually born in Ancient Greece,” Sciron continues. “I’m a pretty famous legend. I used to stand atop one of the cliffs in the Isthmus of Corinth. I would ambush ships with my impeccable aim and speed with my bow - thank you, Apollo - and force them to come meet me with all their treasure. Then I’d trick them into washing my feet, which I purposefully kept extra stinky, and when they got woozy, I would kick them right off the cliff into the jaws of my giant turtle. It was a good life. Got a couple of nice ladies that way, not to mention super rich.”

“You’re a demigod. How are you still alive?”

Sciron shakes his head. “My, my. They did warn me you were oblivious, but I didn’t know that was polite for ignorant. I was killed by Theseus, as part of his fourth labor. Can you imagine? Being killed by my own half-brother! I trusted him and he turned on me, tossing me over the cliff. He knew I was also a son of Poseidon, so he made sure to throw me to the rocks and not the sea.”

“I heard that you were a respectable warlord, not a bandit,” Frank interjects, looking confused.

Sciron scowls. “That fool Plutarch tarnished my reputation! He tried to paint me as a hero and he ruined my image forever! How they ever let him be a philosophist, I have no idea.”

“So you escaped the Underworld,” Percy says, glancing briefly back at Nico. His eyes flicker to Annabeth, but she can’t get a read on him before he turns back to face his half-brother. “But why?”

“Why?” Sciron scoffs. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. You turned down immortality twice! You have to understand, brother, that not all demigods are born equal. Some of us are born more powerful, more important, more favored than others. People wrote legends about me, argued about who I was, made art depicting me! They named a whole set of cliffs after me! What do you have? A recycled name, and from a son of Zeus, no less! A barnacle encrusted ship that should have stayed at the bottom of the ocean. A ragtag crew that you can barely keep alive. You’re weak, Perseus Jackson. An embarrassment to sons of Poseidon everywhere.”

Percy doesn’t react. He simply stands there, listening to this crazy, resurrected pirate. Annabeth wonders if he’s actually taking anything Sciron says to heart. It’s ridiculous, hearing this second rate criminal who made it on one vase trying to brag about how great he is. Of course, knowing Percy’s self doubts and insecurities, there’s a chance he believes him.

“What do you want?” Percy finally asks. “Besides glory.”

“Glory?” Sciron shakes his head empathetically. “No, you misunderstand me. I’ve already tasted glory, had my fill of it! That was my mistake in my past life. I grew complacent, cocky. That’s why Theseus was able to defeat me. He wasn’t more powerful, or smarter. He took advantage of my pride. No, I don’t care about glory anymore. What I want is power.”

“If you’re Poseidon’s favorite child, then why don’t you just ask him for more powers?”

Sciron grinds his teeth. “I will not ask our father for more power! I am a bandit. If I want something, I take it!”

Annabeth’s dreams all click into place. “He wants the pearl,” she murmurs, under her breath. “He’s after the pearl.”

Will and Nico, the only ones close enough to hear her, look at each other in alarm. This is exactly what they feared - someone else getting to it first and abusing the power.

“I heard you had some clues on where it might be located. I already paid your little Oracle friend a visit.” Sciron grins at Percy’s reaction. “Oh, don’t worry. I wouldn’t dare harm the Oracle’s spirit or host. I don’t intend to get sent back to the Underworld so quickly. But I can be quite convincing when I need to be.”

“We’re not telling you anything.” Percy glares across the water. 

“I thought that might be your answer. You little heroes are all the same.” Sciron turns back and motions behind him. “That’s why I have an ultimatum for you - and a special guest.”

Suddenly all the port doors along the side of the ship snap open, revealing dozens of cannons pointed right at the _Pax_. There’s enough firepower in one round alone to blow the _Pax_ to pieces. And unlike in the fight with Clarisse, Percy doesn’t have the element of water exclusively on his side. Sciron has just as much dominance here.

“Here’s what I’m thinking.” Sciron leans casually against the railing of his ship. “You come on board my ship and tell me everything you know about the pearl. You surrender your ship, which I’ll junk because it’s an absolute disgrace. Your crew may go free in the little boats - I don’t care about them. And my special visitor - come here, don’t be shy - has come a long way searching for someone who you have on board.”

Another figure steps up, right next to Sciron, and now Annabeth really is about to have a heart attack. Standing on the deck of that terrible ship, next to that atrocious pirate, is none other than her fiancé.

His hair has grown out since she last saw him. Has he gotten a haircut since she was kidnapped? He’s wearing more casual clothes, but he still has on his red British army jacket with the gold trim and buttons. The rest of his outfit is more casual, better for fitting in among pirates. His light blue eyes lock on Annabeth, and his entire facial expression relaxes instantly.

Annabeth has imagined what this moment would be like a thousand times. She pictured running and jumping into his arms. She imagined them breaking into wide smiles and talking for hours on end, retelling their stories. She imagined him taking her hand and never letting her go again.

She never imagined that she would feel conflicted. She glances over at Percy, who’s turned back to stare at her. For a moment she glimpses that sad part of them, and then he turns back to Sciron.

“I accept your offer,” he says.

Frank reaches out. “Percy, wait! What are you doing? We haven’t discussed this yet!”

“It’s not up for discussion. He’ll blow us right out of the water. I won’t sacrifice the crew.” Percy turns back to the small, loyal crew he’s built up over the years. “You all have been with me through thick and thin. I couldn’t have asked for better men to go on this journey with me. But this is where our journey ends. For those who choose to stay, Frank is now in charge. For those who wish to strike out on their own or find a new ship, I wish you the best of luck.”

“That’s it?” Annabeth hisses under her breath, glancing at Will. “It’s over?”

Will frowns, his eyebrows pulling together as he examines Percy from behind. “It can’t be. Percy always has a plan. He must have something in mind.”

“Not this time.” Nico stares at Percy, who’s having an inaudible argument with Beckendorf.

Annabeth looks back up at Luke, who hasn’t torn his eyes off of her. She manages a weak smile, though her head is spinning.

This isn’t what she imagined would happen at all. She was supposed to be a hero, make her mark, help Percy retrieve and return the pearl. Then they would have a few weeks together as they sailed back to England. She’d have plenty of time to sort of her inner conflict and come to a decision about which future she wants.

Now the choice is being made for her. Luke came after her, and somewhere along the line teamed up with Sciron. This is the last time she’ll see Will and Frank and Beckendorf and Percy - oh gods, she’ll never see Percy again. His last memory of her will always be her breaking his heart. She won’t even get the chance to explain herself, to explain that she really did have feelings for him.

“Well? I don’t have all day,” Sciron snaps, his patience wearing thin. “Those who don’t want to die better get to land. I have a pearl to find and power to steal.”

Frank grabs Percy’s arm and exchanges a few words with him before they nod. Frank doesn’t look happy about it, but he begins ordering the crew into action. They prepare the smaller boats and set them into the water, climbing in and pushing out towards land. Annabeth gives Will a hug and says goodbye to Frank before they disappear over the side. It’s much too short of a goodbye, and it doesn’t feel real at all.

Soon it’s just Percy, Beckendorf, and Annabeth left on board. Beckendorf adamantly refuses to leave Percy behind.

“We started this journey together,” he says, crossing biceps the size of Percy’s head. “We’re going to finish it together.”

Sciron lowers a gangplank (a very steep one, since his ship is so much taller) and the three of them cross. Instantly Sciron’s crew members disarm Percy and Beckendorf and secure their hands behind their backs. Annaeth watches them in concern until Luke crosses over and pulls her into an impossibly tight hug.

“Annabeth,” he breathes into her hair. “I’m so sorry I let you down. I can’t imagine what you’ve suffered through.”

“I missed you, too, Luke.” Despite her confusion, she practically melts in his arms. “But it really wasn’t too bad.”

He pulls slightly away from her, brushing a stray lock of blonde hair out of her face. “You have some new scars,” he says, glancing at her arm.

“I finally used that knife you gave me.” Annabeth smiles and pats her sheath. “It’s saved my life more than once.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” His eyes look troubled. “I should never have left you. I didn’t think the pirates would travel so far out of town. I thought we had them contained in the city. Your mother saw what happened. She assured me that you were smart, that you’d be able to handle yourself, but I had to come after you. I had no idea what they were going to do to you.” He leans forward and buries his head in her shoulder. “I almost lost you.”

Annabeth strokes his hair, but even as she’s holding him she’s looking over across the deck where Percy and Beckendorf are watching silently. Her face grows hot and she looks away.

“I just love when love wins,” Sciron says mockingly. He grabs Percy’s confiscated sword from one of his crew. “Here, have a wedding gift. A memento of your reunion.”

Luke takes it, and Annabeth has a flash of memory from her nightmare where she’s on the beach. Sciron has the pearl in his hand and he’s causing storms; Luke is there, too, and he has Percy’s sword. 

Too many of her nightmares have already come true for it to be coincidence. Sciron is going to get his hands on that pearl. Annabeth has to find a way to warn Percy.

But Percy and Beckendorf are already being escorted down to the brig, and Luke is pulling Annabeth away. Sciron sets sail down the Strait, back in the direction the _Pax_ had sailed from this morning. In the distance, Annabeth sees the retreating crew of the _Pax_ reach land.

Sciron shouts out an order and the cannons fire. She watches as the bronze cannonballs absolutely shred through the smaller vessel. Her heart aches as she sees it sink beneath the waves, and a part of her is glad that Percy didn’t have to witness his ship being sunk. It would only make things worse.

Not that things can get much worse for him. He’s imprisoned by his powerful, resurrected half-brother (who has a god complex to boot) and his crew is scattered. Luke has arrived to whisk Annabeth back to England. Who knows what Sciron is going to do to him to try and pry out information about the pearl, not mention what he’ll do when he gets the pearl.

And Annabeth can’t help but think about the scene in her nightmare where Sciron taunted her: _“It’s your fault he’s gone, you know.That line of the prophecy._ The betrayal of one may be the end. _He’s been turned on before, manipulated, and used as a pawn. It’s part of being a demigod. But nothing was worse to him than your betrayal. It utterly destroyed him. I didn’t even have to do anything!”_

Annabeth didn’t just break Percy’s heart - she may have sentenced him to die.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence
> 
> Author's Note:I'm going to try and update more often, but no promises

**Chapter 16**

Two hours after Sciron mercilessly imprisons Percy and Beckendorf, destroys the _Pax_ , and sets sail again, they arrive back at Messina.

Annabeth spent the entire time relaying the story of how she’d been kidnapped and how Percy had helped her escape Ares. Without mentioning any magic, gods, or monsters, she talked about how she had stayed aboard Percy’s ship because he was the only captain she trusted after her kidnapping (so maybe she threw in a few white lies to cover up things she didn’t want Luke to know). Then she described their journey and some of the places they’d been - Málaga, Sardinia, Naples, and a small village not far from Messina.

Luke seems to have a bad first impression of Percy that Annabeth can’t quite pin down - Sciron must have told him some things - but he grudgingly agrees that the captain did help her and keep her safe.

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” he keeps repeating. “I was so worried that I would be bringing back a body.” 

Sciron crosses the deck and informs them that they’re to leave his ship in Messina. “Our deal is done,” he says, reaching out and shaking Luke’s hand. Annabeth is immediately suspicious about what kind of deal they made, but she’ll have to ask Luke about it later.

“What now?” Annabeth asks Luke. He gives her a strange look.

“We go back home, of course. There’s a cargo ship in Messina that will take us back to England. Then we’ll have all this dirty pirate business behind us.”

Annabeth frowns at that, but she tries to keep Luke’s perspective in her mind. He’s a British officer who had no tolerance for pirates even before his fianceé was kidnapped by one. He must have hated working with Sciron and only did so because he thought it was his best chance to find her.

It isn’t until Sciron docks at Messina that Annabeth realizes that this is really it. She’s headed back to England forever. She’s going to marry Luke and they’re going to start their family. Her adventures are over.

She’ll never see Percy again.

She grabs at Luke’s arm. “Wait. I should say goodbye.”

“To Sciron?”

“To Per- I mean, Captain Jackson.” Probably better to use his formal name. She doesn’t need Luke feeling suspicious than he already is. “I never really thanked him for rescuing me.”

Luke doesn’t look happy, but he doesn’t fight her. “Okay. I’ll talk to Sciron.”

Annabeth tries not to look irritated as he approaches the pirate. It’s already happening - she’s already being treated like a lady again: unable to speak for herself to anyone except her husband. From now on, Luke is going to be doing nearly everything on her behalf.

Luke returns a minute later. “Sciron said you can have five minutes. Don’t push it - he’s really eager to be off again, and I don’t trust him one bit.”

Annabeth nods. One of Sciron’s crew members leads her down to the bottom of the ship, where the brig is. Although they’re walking fast and don’t have much time to look around, Annabeth is shocked to see that the cargo hold is bursting full of treasure. Gold, priceless gems, pearls - you name it, it’s there.

The bottom of the ship sloshes with a thin layer of water and it smells like rotting fish. She has to resist the urge to cover her mouth. The crew member hangs a lantern on a hook in the wall and then steps outside into the hallway.

“Five minutes,” he reminds her before closing the door.

Annabeth crouches down to the cell. It’s not even tall enough for a woman to stand up in, let alone two men. As her eyes adjust to the darkness, she sees the two figures sitting against the opposite wall.

“Annabeth?” Beckendorf lurches forward, his hands wrapping around the bars. “What are you doing here?”

“I convinced Sciron to let me say goodbye.” She tries not to look at Percy, still hidden in the shadows. “I have a lot to say, and only a few minutes to say it. First I need to warn you guys. I’ve been having nightmares for the past few weeks, and so far everything I’ve seen has come true. Sciron is going to get the pearl. I’ve seen it several times in my dreams. There’s no point in resisting him.”

Now Percy leans forward. “What exactly was your dream?”

Annabeth describes the first one she ever had, where she was standing on the beach and out of the storm Sciron’s ship came. She told them how every time Sciron rubbed the pearl with his finger, the storm grew more powerful. She told them about seeing Luke with Percy’s sword.

She tells them everything except about the funeral pyre. She can’t bear to reveal that.

When she finishes, both of them are silent. Annabeth glances at the lantern flickering on the wall and she knows her time is almost up. She has one more thing to say before she leaves forever.

“Percy,” she begins, then pauses to take a deep breath. “I’m really sorry. Last night - that’s not how I wanted things to end. I never intended to string you along. I feel so terrible. I don’t want your last impression of me to be like that.”

He doesn’t say anything, and Annabeth hangs her head. “I really wanted to finish this quest with you guys. The last few months have been the best of my life. I’ll never forget all the memories we had.”

The crew member opens the door. “Time’s up,” he announces. 

Annabeth reaches through the bars, grabbing both Percy and Beckendorf’s hands. “Promise me you guys will be okay. This is hard enough for me as it is. I wasn’t ready to leave yet. The only way I’ll ever be at peace is to know you’re going to be okay.”

To her surprise, both of them squeeze her hand. “We’ll get out of here,” Beckendorf says, smiling. “We’ve survived worse.”

Percy’s eyes gleam in the darkness. “I promise. Annabeth - ” He hesitates for a second before the rest of the words come rushing out. “I won’t remember you that way. I could never remember you that way.”

Annabeth’s heart feels like it will burst. The walls feel like they’re closing in and if she stays any longer, she’ll be trapped forever. She draws her hands back, snatches the lantern off the wall, and steps away.

In the doorway, she turns back briefly. “Goodbye,” she says, then steps into the corridor and walks away.

It’s the last time she’ll ever walk away from Percy and Beckendorf.

-

All Annabeth can think about as she and Luke stand on the docks of Messina is the brief history lesson that Will gave as they approached it two days ago: _“There was a second wave of plague a few years ago. The city was already in decline after some revolutions, and that was all it took.”_

They have a little bit of free time before their ship heading back to England departs, and Luke suggests going into the city and buying her a new dress. She can see the way he glances at her new outfit out of the corner of his eye, his mouth curving down in disapproval.

Will’s words echo in her mind again: _“Honestly, I don’t want to step foot there. All it takes is one deceased rat or person and our mission is over - forever.”_

“Let’s just stay on the docks,” Annabeth says, a chill sweeping through her body. It didn’t take a deceased rat or person to end the mission for her forever. All it took was someone from her past.

“You like those clothes,” Luke says tentatively, like a child testing the temperature of the water before jumping in.

“They’re practical,” Annabeth replies evenly, trying to be patient. It’s not fair for her to be mad at Luke for being off-put by the way she’s changed. She’s returning to his world, and so she’s the one who should be adjusting. “For a ship.”

“At least let me buy you a new dress in Spain. I heard that women in England are tripping over themselves to get their hands on Spanish fashion these days.”

Annabeth manages a smile. “I would like that.”

They board their cargo ship not too long later. Annabeth catches a lot of sideways glances, and a few outright glares. She doesn’t understand it at first.

“Why do I feel like everyone hates me onboard?” she whispers to Luke as they stand at the railing a few hours after they set sail again.

Luke gives her a funny look. “It’s a sailor’s superstition. Women onboard a ship is bad luck. You’ve seriously never heard of it?”

Annabeth shakes her head. “Percy mentioned it once, but neither he nor his crew members actually believed in that superstitious nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense to them.”

“But it is. Just because they believe it doesn’t make it true.”

“It’s true to them.”

“Truth is objective, whether you believe it or not. The sky is blue. Water is wet. Fire is hot. The spirits of the sea aren’t sexist.”

Luke stares at her for a long time. Annabeth can see that he’s trying to get a read on her. She realizes how crazy she must sound to him.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m just a little frustrated.”

His bright blue eyes bore into hers. There was a time when he could see straight to her soul, but now there’s a wall between them. He can see it, and she can feel it.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asks.

“Yeah.” Annabeth leans into his side. “Just hold me for a while.”

In the absence of words, with his arm around her, it almost feels like it used to. Annabeth closes her eyes and for a moment she pretends that they were never separated, that they were never half a world apart.

Truth is, they’ve never been farther apart than right now. Now a whole world separates them - a world of magic, gods, monsters, and a certain demigod.

-

“Something definitely happened last night between you and Annabeth,” Beckendorf says.

Percy wraps his arms around his knees and listens to the faint sloshing sound of water around them. The last thing he wants right now, while sitting in the humid, dark, and smelly underbelly of the ship is to relive another terrible time in his life. But there’s nothing else to do, and it’s Beckendorf.

“Yeah,” he says. “We had a great time last night. I begin to think that maybe - ” He shakes his head. “I was so stupid. She’s engaged. What was I thinking?”

“You love her.”

Percy shrugs, although Beckendorf can’t see it in the dark. “I don’t know if I’d call it that.”

“Close enough, anyway.” Beckendorf’s long exhale fills the space between them. “That’s rough, man.”

“Maybe I’m overthinking it, but when Luke first appeared on the deck of Sciron’s ship, she looked at me first. And then, when they were reunited, I thought I saw her looking back at me.” Percy drops his head. “I had to let her go. Like the rest of the crew. Like the ship. Like I should have left you.”

Beckendorf scoffs. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

“I know.” Percy grins. “And I’ve tried.”

They fall into a comfortable silence for a while. Percy tries to think through his situation, but he’s never been the one with all the brains. That was Frank and Annabeth. Percy can think on his feet when he has to, but sitting back and trying to put the puzzle together? He’s no good at that.

If the brig wasn’t so small, he’d get up at pace. There’s nothing Percy hates more than having to sit still. Even now his knee bounces and his fingers drum on his leg. His mind jumps around from topic to topic, but it always circles back to Annabeth.

He hates how much he thinks of her. Even before last night, before he ruined everything and she left him for good, he thought about her a lot. He’d seen how intelligent she was from the very first time he met her in that tavern. Almost immediately she’d become an advisor, quickly picking up on how his world worked and finding solutions to their problems.

He had started relying on her as much as he did on Beckendorf and Frank. Without even discussing it, she started coming on all his quests. She saved his life when they faced Reyna and Hylla, risking her own in the process. Gods, she was so beautiful during that fight. He felt she was truly growing into herself. There had always been this invisible wall between who she was when he first met her and who she could be, and he felt like that day she smashed right through it.

He should have known it would end this way. As much as she fit into this world, as strong and smart and brave as she was, there was always a tether holding her back. He’ll never forget the day he saved her from the Sirens. She’d sobbed on the bottom of the ocean and he had no idea what to do or say to her to make her feel better. All he could think about was that image of her dreams coming true - the one with Luke and her parents.

Percy didn’t exist in her ideal future. He was never even an option. He knew that, and he still acted like a fool.

He must be crazy. After all his years of fighting, all his head injuries and all the times the gods messed with his brain, he must finally be losing it. He must have been imagining Annabeth looking at him when she saw her fiancé for the first time in months. He must have somehow warped their conversation last night so that it made it seem like she was just as happy with him as he was with her.

To make matters worse, he’d made a complete idiot of himself when she came to say goodbye. She warned them of Sciron and the visions she’d seen in her dreams, and then she apologized to him for running away last night. But of course it wasn’t a “sorry I ran away, I actually do like you back,” it was a “sorry I ran away, I led you on with no intentions of anything happening”, which was just like a sword in the gut. He should have expected that, but it still hurt like nothing else.

And what had he said? What were his last words to her? _“I won’t remember you that way. I could never remember you that way.”_ How dumb could he sound?

Percy should have just stayed on Calypso’s island when he had the chance. It would have made his life a whole lot easier.

“You know what I find funny?” Beckendorf asks, breaking through Percy’s thoughts.

“What?”

“Sciron kept calling the _Pax_ a disgrace, but that’s a ship Poseidon himself gifted to you. And then he called himself Poseidon’s favorite son, but he had to kill someone else and steal their ship to get his own.”

“He was definitely one of Dad’s bad-mood children,” Percy replies. “Like the one I met in the Labyrinth, who thought Poseidon was honored by the people he killed in his name. And Chrysaor - gah, I don’t even want to think about him.”

“Medusa does have a thing for men of the sea,” Beckendorf teases.

“You should have seen the fountain she had in her garden - actually, no, you’re lucky you didn’t. You know, I’ve never seen a naked statue of your dad.”

“That’s because Hera turns anyone who’s ever thought of it into a cow. She’s too ashamed of Hephaestus. He’s not exactly part of her picture-perfect family.”

“Both of her children with Zeus are ugly - no offense to your dad. But all the other gods are attractive - especially Artemis and Apollo, Zeus’ children with another woman. Irony doesn’t spare the gods.”

“Hera’s sons are ugly because they were cursed to look like her personality. That’s her own fault.”

There’s something relaxing about being able to trash-talk the gods in prison at the bottom of a boat. What is Zeus going to do, strike them down? That’ll start a war with Poseidon while simultaneously ending the threat of Sciron. And Percy’s pretty sure that Sciron is going to kill them once he finds the pearl anyway. At least Zeus’ bolt would be faster.

“You know, when I sent Medusa’s head to the gods, I definitely wasn’t thinking that my father might not appreciate seeing his decapitated ex-girlfriend.” Percy smiles wryly. “Maybe that’s why all this bad stuff is happening. Maybe my father cursed me.”

Percy thinks of the story Annabeth had told him under the stars - the story of Cassiopeia, Cetus, and Andromeda. Cassiopeia had simply boasted about her beauty and Poseidon had sent a sea monster her way. Maybe Sciron really is Poseidon’s new favorite son. Maybe Poseidon sent him to punish Percy for his insolence.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Beckendorf replies. “Your father usually isn’t subtle when he’s angry. He probably would have sent a sea monster or sent a huge wave to sink the _Pax_ overnight. I bet he found that stunt amusing. I mean, it’s been over three thousand years, and Medusa was just a fling.”

“I kind of feel bad for her, though,” Percy says. “It’s not cool that she kills people, but did she really deserve to be cursed for what she did? Yeah, it was super offensive to Athena, but that still seems unnecessarily cruel. And my father didn’t get in trouble for it at all.”

“Your father is a god, and an elder god at that. Short of attempting to overthrow Zeus, there’s nothing he would get in trouble for. As for Athena...well, she’s a proud goddess. If she feels as though she’s been snubbed, she’s often quite aggressive with her punishments. Remember Arachne?”

“Yeah,” Percy says, but really he’s thinking of Annabeth again. He remembers her admitting that pride was her fatal flaw. Still, he can’t imagine her ever being that harsh.

“You worry too much about things that are out of your control.” Beckendorf leans back against the wall. “Right now the only thing we need to be worrying about is Sciron and what happens when he gets his hands on the pearl.”

Sitting in the darkness, his hand in a puddle of sludgy brig water, Percy finds himself praying to his father for the first time in years.

_Dad, if you ever really cared about me...now’s the time to prove it. I need your help._

He isn’t surprised when there’s no sign that Poseidon was even listening.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence

**Chapter 17**

“Mom!”

Annabeth practically runs off the ship and onto the dock, her delicate flats pounding across the wooden deck of the pier. She nearly trips on her long, poofy skirts, but she simply lifts up the hem.

Her mother and stepfather are waiting for her at the port. Her mom steps forward and catches her in her arms, staggering back one step from the force of Annabeth’s embrace.

“I missed you so much,” Annabeth cries, holding her mother fiercely.

“I missed you, too.” Her mother strokes the back of her head. “Your hair has gotten so long.” She steps back, her hands still holding onto Annabeth’s arms, and examines her. “You look different,” she says. “Tanner.” She squeezes her biceps. “Stronger.”

“You won’t believe the adventures I’ve had.” Annabeth can’t wipe the wide smile off her face. She turns to her stepfather and gives even him a quick hug - something she’s sure she’s never done before. “It’s good to be home at last.”

It had taken a little over six weeks for them to sail back to England. The winds were on their side, and without monster attacks or side quests every few days, the miles sped by. It was almost too smooth of sailing. Annabeth was quite bored most of the trip.

Luke finally catches up to them, carrying their bags in his hand. He hadn’t mentioned her choice of attire again until Spain, which is when Annabeth had promised he could buy her some new dresses so that she wouldn’t look like a pirate when she stepped foot back on the shores of her home.

“Luke!” Her mother steps away from her and also gives him a hug. “Thank you for bringing our girl home.”

“I wouldn’t have come back without her,” Luke swears, but the smile on his face is strained. Annabeth ducks her head, feeling more than a little responsible.

The first couple weeks aboard the ship, she’d been delighted to be back with him. They rehashed old times and traded stories and stayed up late at night talking. For a brief period of time, Annabeth had felt complete again.

It hadn’t been all sunshine and paradise, though. There were little things he said or did that annoyed her. The way he tried to speak for her, the sideways looks he’d give whenever she did something he didn’t think was appropriate for her to do, some casual comments he’d drop that Annabeth realized were more than just casual.

Annabeth knew she was different. She knew Luke was trying to adjust to the new her. To be completely honest, it wasn’t even Luke that was the real problem. The real problem was the rules of propriety that she had thrown to the wind for a few months. She’d grown used to be treated as an equal, to having complete control over her life, to doing whatever she fancied. Back in the mortal world, she can no longer get away with doing those things. Luke just happens to be the only person who feels comfortable enough reacting to and basically calling her out on it.

The last few weeks, things had gotten worse. They hadn’t fought, and they hadn’t talked, either. Annabeth charmed her way into the crew of the cargo ship by trading ship stories and participating in their ship events (another thing that totally freaked Luke out - her knowing all the words to and singing inappropriate and sometimes crude sailing songs). She began to spend more time with them. All her conversations with Luke morphed into coldly polite small talk.

Annabeth knows that at some point, something’s going to give. She’s just not sure when or how.

Luckily her parents seem too busy fussing over her return to notice. Before she can blink, she’s being carted off to her stepfather’s house, where there’s a whole party planned out to celebrate her return. She spends the entire evening thanking everyone for their support and reassuring them that yes, she’s fine. 

She’s utterly exhausted that night. She hasn’t had to put on her socially appropriate face in months. Although she can see that her mother is disappointed that she doesn’t stay up to talk to her more, Annabeth crashes as soon as the party is over.

The next morning, she’s startled awake by the sound of someone in her room. She flips over her pillow, where she’s taken to hiding her knife, and brandishes it in front of her.

In the light shining through the windows, Annabeth sees a terrified looking servant on the sharp end of her dagger.

“I - I’m just here to help you get ready for the d-day, Milady,” the poor girl stutters. Annabeth’s face grows red with shame and she immediately puts down her knife.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I forgot that - I haven’t been home in so long - ”

The servant dips into a curtsy. “All is forgiven, Milady. You had a terrible encounter. I can’t even imagine how you survived being kidnapped by pirates for so long.”

The truth is, it’s not pirates Annabeth is scared of. It’s monsters. She had spent much of the night tossing and turning, nightmares of monsters attacking her family plaguing her sleep. She’s worried that they’ll come after her now that she doesn’t have Percy’s protection. 

She wasn’t scared on the ship. Even though Percy wasn’t physically with her, she still felt his presence in the sea around them. Nothing would hurt her as long as she was in his domain. No matter how badly Annabeth hurt him, he’d still always look out for her. 

Now, on land, she sees monsters out of the corner of her eye and in every dark alley. If they really are there, they don’t attack; but she’s almost positive they’re just figments of her paranoid imagination.

The servant draws Annabeth a bath and then combs through and styles her hair before dressing her up. Annabeth looks in the mirror and sees a stranger looking back at her. Who is this girl with hints of make-up on, with styled up hair and wearing expensive exotic dresses? 

Annabeth and her mother head over to Luke’s manor for tea. May Castellan is a strange woman; sometimes she’s a perfectly normal high society lady. Then, in a flip of the switch, she goes crazy, mumbling incoherently and sometimes crying. She’s been known to latch onto whoever’s closest and shake them until her fit passes.

Luke had tried to run away a few times as a child, terrified by his mother to the point of not being able to live with her. Annabeth remembers him sneaking across the countryside on one of his father’s horses - his father traveled often for business trips and was almost never home - and throwing rocks up at her window. He’d beg her to come with him, but Annabeth had always just shook her head.

“I can’t,” she’d call down as quietly as she could. 

“Why not?”

“I don’t know how to ride a horse,” she’d say, or she’d make up some other stupid excuse that wouldn’t stop her if she had really wanted to run away.

When Luke had gotten older, he did finally run away - by joining the army. May had been in tears, her fits exponentially worse. She was convinced he was going to die in the war. When Luke had left, there’d been a haunted look in his eyes. Had he gone to war thinking that he was going to die? That his mother’s fits were a form of telling the future?

Whatever the case, May’s fears proved unfounded. Luke returned from the war with nothing worse than a scar down his face. Her fits didn’t happen as often once he returned to the manor with her, but they still did occasionally.

Although Annabeth’s mother found May’s fits disturbing, she was also extremely sympathetic towards the woman.

“There must have been some sort of tragedy in her life that she never recovered fully from,” she’d reason. “She’s a very sweet woman, really.”

They sit outside in the garden - the same garden Annabeth had waited for Luke in before she was kidnapped. What had once been the most terrifying moment of Annabeth’s life now seems tame in comparison to what she’s encountered since. If those same pirates showed up today, Annabeth would calmly pull out her knife, cut them down, and then return to her tea before it cooled. The whole thing would be over in minutes, if not seconds.

“You raised your son right, you know,” Annabeth’s mother is saying to May. “He swore he would find her, and he did. Not many men would go to such lengths for their women.”

“My Luke is so much like his father,” May says, her eyes closed as she sips her tea. “Such a gentleman. He always takes such good care of me.”

The two politely chat for a while. Annabeth tries to listen to them, but the distant crashing of the waves draws her attention, and eventually she tunes them out and focuses on the sea. What bitter irony that Luke lives a short walk to the ocean. When Annabeth marries him and moves here, she’ll always be reminded of the life she gave up.

“Annabeth, dear?”

Annabeth whips her head around. “Yes?”

“We were asking you a question.” Her mother scrutinizes her face. “You never used to notice the sea before.”

Annabeth glances back one more time. “I understand now all those songs about sailors falling in love with the sea,” she replies, forcing a smile. “I’ll admit, I was quite confused this morning when I woke up and my bed wasn’t rocking back and forth.”

“That wasn’t the only thing you were confused about.” Her mother lifts her tea cup to her mouth and takes a small sip. “I heard you nearly stabbed the maid.”

She grimaces. “It’s an instinct I picked up at sea. I haven’t fully readjusted yet.”

“Speaking of readjusting, when is the wedding going to be?” May asks. She has the same bright blue eyes as Luke, clouded over by a distant sadness in the exact same way. Annabeth knows that Luke’s sadness comes from his time in the war; May’s comes from whatever tragedy she experienced that unhinged her slightly. “My Luke was devastated that it was ruined the first time. What back luck for the bride to be kidnapped moments before walking down the aisle!”

It’s all Annabeth can do not to cringe. She doesn’t want to think about the wedding. She doesn’t want to think about meeting Luke at the altar and promising her life to him, promising to submit to him, to be with him until she dies. Once, she dreamed about those things; now, she dreads them.

“We haven’t decided on a date,” she says simply. 

“Well, I hope you don’t wait too long!”

After Annabeth and her mother return home, they take a walk around their own gardens. There’s this ridiculously large hedge maze with a fountain of Venus in the middle. Her stepfather loves it and she and her mother usually roll their eyes when he brags about it to his friends, but right now Annabeth feels safe hidden in the bushes.

She and her mother sit at the bench facing the fountain.

“You were dodging May’s questions today,” her mother accuses lightly. “Especially ones about Luke.”

“I don’t know if I want to marry him anymore,” Annabeth admits, the words just gushing out. She immediately clamps her hand over her mouth, sure that she’s about to get in trouble, but her mother just nods.

“You’ve grown up, Annabeth. Before you were kidnapped, you were still a little girl with a hopeless crush. You didn’t know there was anything more to life than marrying and having kids. You lived in a bubble - a happy bubble, but still a bubble. Now you know the truth about the world. You’ve had time away from Luke to truly comprehend what marriage will mean for you and your future. Your wisdom and intelligence is a gift, but it is also a curse.”

Annabeth nods numbly. Her mother had perfectly put it into words. She wishes so badly she could tell her mother everything - about monsters and gods and Percy. Gods, how much she wants to tell her mother about Percy.

“I love Luke, I really do.” Annabeth stares at her hands, no longer delicate and frail like they were the last time she was in this maze. Now they’re calloused and rough. “I think I’ll always love him. But I - I don’t know if I can marry him.”

A few tears streak down her face. She hadn’t cried since the night she rejected Percy. Even as she and Luke had departed Messina, every second carrying her farther away, she hadn’t cried. She hadn’t cried the first time she realized that she didn’t see a future for her and Luke anymore. She hadn’t even cried when she saw her family for the first time in months.

Even though she’s hundreds of miles away and she’s with a completely different person, this feels exactly like that night in New Rome when she’s cried in Silena’s arms. Now it’s her mother comforting her, and it’s not Percy that she’s rejecting but Luke.

Luke, who she practically grew up with. Luke, who she used to dream about every night. Luke, who she cried about when he left for war. Luke, who she wrote countless letters to, even when she wasn’t sure they’d make it to him. Luke, who she had once been blissful with when he finally asked her to marry him.

Luke, who she had almost married, had pirates not shown up at the worst - or possibly best - time.

Giving up Luke is like giving up her left arm. She’ll always feel strange and lopsided without it. She’ll always miss it. Sometimes she’ll think that she’d do anything to have it back. But at the end of the day, she doesn’t need it. Sometimes the only way to survive and move forward is to cut off the infection.

“Choosing yourself is the hardest decision you’ll ever make,” her mother says, holding her. “It will make your life indescribably harder. You’ll be an outcast. People will always talk about you behind your back. You’ll never hear the end of it. But if it’s the only way to happiness, then you have to do it. You have to choose yourself.”

“You’re the best mother in the world, you know that?”

“I do. And sometimes you’re the most difficult daughter in the world. But I want you to be happy more than anything else. No matter where that takes you.”

Annabeth rests her head against her mother’s shoulder. “How am I ever going to tell Luke?” she moans. “He came all the way to Sicily to get me back, and now I’m going to dump him.”

“If he truly loves you back, he’ll understand. Men may be oblivious, but even he must have noticed that something’s different now.”

“I feel like I’m ruining his life, though. Just because I won’t be happy with him doesn’t mean he wouldn’t still be happy with me.”

“He chose you just as much as you chose him. When he asked you to marry him, he knew there was the possibility that you could say no. Even throughout your engagement he knew you could still change your mind. That was a risk he decided was worth taking.”

“I just feel so awful.” Annabeth closes her eyes, unable to look at the statue of the goddess of love. She’s probably sitting atop Olympus or wherever the Romans gods reside, having the time of her life as she watches Annabeth’s drama unfold.

“I just have one question,” her mother says.

“What?”

“Did you meet someone else?”

Gods, her mother is good. Annabeth can’t find it in her to answer for a long time. How can she describe what happened between her and Percy? It had crept up so slowly that Annabeth hadn’t even realized it was there until the banquet in New Rome. She wonders if it had been that way for Percy, too, or if he had known all along that he loved her.

“Yes,” she finally confesses, unable to look her mother in the eye. “But I burned that bridge. I could never be unfaithful to Luke.”

Annabeth can break his heart. She can leave him behind in her dust and not look back. But she could never destroy him all the way down to his core the way cheating does. She would never ruin something she loves so dearly.

“Do you want to go back to him?”

Annabeth thinks of how she left things with Percy - how messed up what she did to him was. She led him on, rejected him, then left him rotting in a cell at the bottom of the ship of a ruthless pirate and never looked back. That’s almost on the same level of cheating in terms of utterly destroying someone. How could she ever face him again?

“I don’t know.” Annabeth opens her eyes and stares at the fountain, silently sending out a prayer. Maybe the love goddess is getting a kick out of her messy love life, but maybe she’ll also feel sympathetic and help a girl out. “I have no idea what I want anymore. I only know the things that I don’t want.”

“That’s a start. And you have time, Annabeth. You’re only nineteen. You still have a few years left if you decide you want to get married after all. You have time to readjust to living here and not among pirates and sailors. There’s no rush.”

Annabeth wishes that were the case. She thinks of Percy and wonders if he’s still in that cell. Or maybe worse - maybe Sciron has already found the pearl and killed Percy.

No, that doesn’t sound right. The ocean was too calm today, the skies too clear. Percy was the sea god’s favorite son; if he died, the whole ocean would rage. It would at least send lasting ripples out to shore.

Somewhere out there, Percy is still alive. Annabeth just doesn’t know how long that will last.

Her time may already be up.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence
> 
> Author's Note: Short chapter today, but the next chapter is a Percy POV! I'll try and get that one up on Wednesday if I can

**Chapter 18**

When Annabeth wakes up in the early morning hours, thunder rumbles through the air and rain pounds at her window. She smiles lazily and rolls over, enjoying the sound of the storm from the warmth and safety of her bed.

She drifts off to sleep briefly, and in her dreaming state she sees Sciron raising his guns to the sky, a triumphant smile on his face. He pulls the triggers, and a particularly loud blast of thunder causes Annabeth’s eyes to shoot open.

Her smile drops and she throws herself out of bed, pulling her housecoat over her shoulders and sliding on her slippers before sprinting down the stairs and out the door. She ignores the servant that blearily peers out of the corridor, obviously awoken by the sound of pattering footsteps against the creaky staircase.

Annabeth runs to the stables, ignoring the mud squishing into her shoes and the rain drenching her almost instantly. She grabs a halter and harnesses the fastest horse. All the horses are skittish, tossing their heads and pawing the ground, but Annabeth can’t wait for them to calm down.

She pulls herself onto the horse’s back and digs her bare heels into his side. The stallion tears out of the stables, running as if his life depends on it. Annabeth can barely hold on and she regrets not taking the time to saddle him, but they’re already tearing down the road at a full gallop.

They reach Luke’s manor in a matter of minutes. Annabeth quickly leads the horse to an empty stall and grabs him some food and water, apologizing for her haste and promising to give him a proper wipe down before running back out into the storm.

She sprints across the mushy lawn, losing one of her slippers in the process, but she doesn’t stop. She runs until she reaches the rocky beach. Dark gray waves pound against the rocks and wind whips Annabeth’s robes and hair around wildly.

No, she thinks, standing in the middle of the inferno. _No._

In her mind, only two things could create a storm of this severity: Poseidon’s wrath, or power of the pearl.

There’s only one logical reason for why Poseidon could be this angry. It’s a thought Annabeth can’t voice, not even in her own mind, although deep down she knows it. As for the pearl, there’s only one person who was searching for it who meant to use its power for himself.

Annabeth remembers a nightmare she had where she went raging after Sciron, demanding that he tell her what he did with Percy. His words still ring out in her mind, as loud and clear as if he had said them in the flesh: _“It’s your fault he’s gone, you know.That line of the prophecy. The betrayal of one may be the end. He’s been turned on before, manipulated, and used as a pawn. It’s part of being a demigod. But nothing was worse to him than your betrayal. It utterly destroyed him. I didn’t even have to do anything!”_

“No,” Annabeth whispers aloud, the words carried away by the wind. She closes her eyes, trying to will away the tide of tears that rages against her eyelids. “It can’t be.”

“Annabeth!”

She hears her name being shouted in the distance, but she can’t answer. She can’t even find the strength to open her eyes. She’s surprised that Poseidon doesn’t send a wave to wash over the ground she’s standing on and carry her away with it to drown. 

“Annabeth!”

The voice is closer now, right behind her. It belongs to yet another person she’s wronged, even if he doesn’t know it yet. Poor Luke; if he thinks this storm is bad, he has no idea what’s about to blow his way.

“Annabeth! What are you doing out here?” Luke takes her arm gently and turns her towards himself. He puts his back to the wind, sheltering her as best as he can. “It’s the middle of the night and there’s a terrible storm! Why are you outside?”

“I have to go back,” she cries. “This is all my fault.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“The storm! The sea!” Annabeth waves her arms. “It’s all my fault. I have to go back.”

Luke rubs his hands along her arms gently. “You’re talking like a crazy person. How is this your fault?”

Annabeth shakes her head. She can’t explain it to him. He doesn’t know the world she spent the last few months in. He doesn’t know how everything’s connected, how a single mortal can be responsible for the destruction of a country.

Annabeth is Cassiopeia, the prideful queen who demanded too much and now everything and everyone around her is being punished. She refuses to let anyone be her Andromeda. She’ll sacrifice herself instead.

“I have to go back,” she repeats, clutching onto his arms and staring into his eyes, willing him to understand on a deeper level. “Please.”

Luke’s eyes fill with tears. “I just got you back,” he cries. “You want to leave me again?”

Annabeth isn’t sure which is worse: Percy ignoring her after she broke his heart, or Luke on the verge of tears. Both are terrible in their own way.

“I have to,” she says, her voice barely audible over the wind. “It’s the only way to make things right.”

“Explain it to me.” His hands tighten like vises around her arms. “I need to understand.”

_You could never understand_ , she wishes she could scream, but it would only make him want to know more. Luke isn’t the kind of person to accept vague answers like that.

“I love you,” she sobs. “I do. I always have.”

“And I love you, too.” His brows furrow together, as if he’s starting to connect the dots.

“But I can’t stay. I can’t marry you.” She swallows past the gulp in her throat. The space around them seems to slow down, like they’re caught in the eye of the hurricane. After the deafening volume of the storm, everything sounds twice as loud. “I fell in love with someone else. And I may have killed him. I have to go back. I have to see - I have to make things right.”

Luke stares at her in shock. The pain hasn’t set in yet - he’s still processing it all.

“Stay,” he begs. “We can work through this. I’ll be more patient. I’ll - I’ll try harder to understand what you went through and how you’ve changed. Please, just give me a chance Annabeth.”

She shakes her head, the tears streaming down her face. Or is it the rain? She can’t tell anymore.

“I know I was a complete jerk on the way back, but Annabeth, I love you. This hasn’t been easy for me either, and I know we have a long way to go, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes for us to stay together. I crossed an ocean to find you, Annabeth!”

“I know.” She can’t look him in the eyes anymore. She can’t bear to see the light dying in them - light that she killed. “I don’t deserve you, Luke. And you don’t deserve me, either. We’ve both changed since we were children. We don’t want the same things we used to want.”

“I still want you.” He clutches onto her like they’re in the middle of the ocean and she’s the last raft.

“Part of me still wants you, too. But if I don’t go back, I’ll never be at peace. I’ll never have closure. I’ll always be haunted. I can’t live like that.”

“You can’t live like that, or you can’t live with me?”

Annabeth digs into the pocket of her robe, where she’d shoved her knife. She pulls it out and holds it in the flat of her palm between them. “Do you remember when you gave me this?”

Luke nods once.

“It was right before you left for war. You promised me that you’d always do right by me, but that you wanted me to be able to protect myself while you were gone. You said that if you didn’t return, you wanted me to move on and be happy.”

In the moonlight, Luke’s scar shines. Annabeth takes a deep breath and tries to level her tone.

“Here. I’m making the same promise to you now. This time I’m the one leaving, but I know I’m not coming back. Whatever happens...this place holds nothing for me anymore. I’ve seen horrors you could never imagine. I’ve seen wonders you could never dream of. I’ve done things you couldn’t fathom. There’s no future for me here anymore, but there is for you. I want you to be happy, Luke. I truly do. But it won’t be with me.”

Luke stares at the knife for a long time. Then he folds her fingers over the top of it, holding onto her hand around it.

“Keep it,” he says, his voice hoarse. “One reminder of me. Of us.”

They stand there for a long time, bonded together by a promise kept and a promise returned. The storm rages around them as their own storm rages inside each of them.

When Luke finally steps back, there’s something hard and cold beneath his blue eyes.

“Where do you need to go?” 

-

“This ship goes all the way to Málaga. From there the captain knows a ship that goes to Sicily.”

Luke and Annabeth stand awkwardly by the docks as the pink sunrise washes over them. Annabeth is once again dressed in her pirate clothes, which she hadn’t had the heart to throw away. Maybe, subconsciously, she always knew that this is where her path would lead.

“Thank you, Luke. I’ll never forget this.”

The raging storm had faded almost as soon as Annabeth and Luke had come to an agreement. The stillness and quiet that follows isn’t like the world returning to normal after a cycle; rather, it feels like the calm before a storm, or the eye of the hurricane. It’s the sea monster pausing its attack on the kingdom because it knows the Princess Andromeda is being led to the altar.

Annabeth has her hair pulled up and piled in her hat. She’ll pass as a man, not wanting to deal with the sexism that she faced on her last voyage. And, truth be told, she doesn’t want anyone recognizing her as she sails off for the last time. It’s bad enough that she abandoned her family and broke off her engagement; she doesn’t need her family to suffer under any more rumors about her running back off to join the hated pirates.

“Are you sure this is what will make you happy?” Luke asks, reaching out for her hand. She lets him take it.

“I’m not sure,” she confesses. “But I know that nothing here can, so I’m willing to risk it all for at least a chance.”

He presses his lips together and nods tightly. Then he unbuckles his sheath and holds Percy’s sword out towards her.

“Take it,” he says. “It was never truly mine to own. A man’s - or a woman’s - weapon is a part of him.”

Annabeth takes it carefully, not because she thinks the sword is delicate but because it’s so precious. This is part of Percy. This is part of the man who may no longer be.

“You’re going back to him, aren’t you?”

She doesn’t look him in the eyes. “If he’ll have me back, yes.”

“But he’s a bloody pirate.”

_No. He’s a hero._ She wishes Luke could understand, but he never will. If she tried to explain, he’d think her crazy - crazier than he already considers her. And she knows that defending Percy like that will just hurt him more. After all, she had once called him a hero, when he returned from war.

“The world is so much different than we ever imagined,” she says instead. “It’s not black and white. It’s not lawful citizen and pirate.”

“If you’re caught, you’ll be hanged.”

She almost wants to laugh - being caught by mortals is the least of their worries. Once again, that’s something Luke could never understand.

“We won’t get caught.”

“He doesn’t even have a ship anymore.”

“He has connections.”

“You don’t even know if he’s alive. Sciron - you should have heard the way that man talked. He was a complete lunatic. And he hated Percy. He wanted him dead more than anything else.”

“Percy isn’t the only person I care about on that ship.” Annabeth thinks of Will, who had become her best friend, and Frank and Beckendorf, who’d she’d learned to rely on. Not to mention all the people she met in New Rome.

“I’ve made my choice, Luke. I know you don’t understand, but you have to trust me.”

“It’s not you that I don’t trust.” He takes a step back, the chasm between them widening. One more step, and there’s no going back.

“Goodbye, Luke.” Her hand slides out of his as she takes that last, defining step. She turns away and walks up the gangplank onto the ship, clutching Riptide tightly in her hands.

She has no idea what awaits her in Sicily. She has no idea if Percy is even alive. She has no idea where the crew went after they were sent ashore. She has no idea if Sciron has the pearl.

All she knows is that she has to go back.

Will was right when he told her that she chose the world of magic and monsters the day she stepped aboard Percy’s ship. Maybe that wasn’t Percy’s intention, but intentions hardly matter. Truth is, Annabeth decided to run off with a pirate she had just met, and that was her choice. 

Annabeth stands at the front of the ship. Around her, the sailors are just finishing up their duties. Before the sun is completely risen they’ll be off, and Annabeth will once again be leaving her past behind.

This time she’s not scared. This time she’s not being dragged away, kicking and screaming. Even though she doesn’t know what she’ll face, she does know that it’s her destiny.

Whatever happens, she’ll stand up and face it.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

“Just tell me where the pearl is, and this can all end.”

Percy blinks away the blurriness in his eyes and tries to focus on Sciron’s leering face leaning over him. His head is spinning and his face stings and he’s distracted by the drop of blood that he can feel rolling down the side of his face and dripping off his chin. He can barely piece together enough words to create a coherent sentence.

“If you’re Dad’s favorite child, why don’t you just ask him where it is?”

Sciron’s hand moves so fast that Percy doesn’t even see it. His head is whipped to the side and he hits the side of neck painfully against the back of the chair. Of all the tortures he’s endured in the past several weeks, it’s almost insulting that bumping his neck hurts that much.

“You may be strong, but I will break you. I will find that pearl! I worked too hard to fail now!”

“Worked? I thought you just killed and bribed a bunch of people.”

Another crack and Percy’s head snaps to the other side. Sciron wraps his fingers in Percy’s hair and forces his head up.

“What will it take for you to just tell me?!” Sciron screams. He’s grown increasingly unstable as the weeks have gone by and neither Percy nor Beckendorf have cracked. At first he was civil, simply interrogating them for hours. Then the physical torture began, but he was still calm and controlled. Now, Percy fears he’ll fly into a rage and accidentally kill him.

At least then he’d never get the information he wanted.

“I’d rather die than tell you anything,” Percy spits out.

Sciron releases him, shoving his head back so that he hits the back of the chair again. Sciron paces the deck in front of Percy.

“I shouldn’t have let that prissy blonde-haired girl and your crew go until I got the answers I needed! I had prime black-mail material and I just let it walk away!”

“That’s called mercy,” Percy supplies unhelpfully.

“And I’ll never make that mistake again!” Sciron turns around in a rage. Suddenly his face lights up. Percy finds that scarier than his rage. “But not all your crew got away.”

He disappears. Percy tries to pull at his restraints, but there’s no use. Sciron wasn’t taking any chances when he secured him. Percy closes his eyes and tries to call out to the ocean around them, but it doesn’t respond.

There was once a time that Percy could sink an entire ship with his mind. Now the sea water floating around the bottom of the brig won’t even heal him. It’s like he lost all his powers.

It’s like his father disowned him.

Percy tries not to think that way because when he does, a raging bitterness fills him. He wants nothing more than to free himself, grab a sword, and destroy every person on this ship before sailing to Mount Olympus and assaulting the gods himself. After everything he’s done for them, this is how he’s repaid: abandoned at the bottom of the ship, in the middle of his own father’s element, left to die slowly and painfully.

A few years ago, he’d saved Olympus from some Titans who had risen from Tartarus. Among them were several demigods, one of whom Percy remembers swearing to tear Olympus down brick by brick. At the time, Percy didn’t understand him. He thought that he was radical. Now, he wonders why he even bothered saving the gods.

The door bursts open and Sciron staggers in, two of his crew members dragging Beckendorf in between them. Beckendorf looks as bloody and injured as Percy; neither of them have been spared VIP (Very Important Prisoner) treatment.

“This is your last chance, Percy. Tell us what you know about the whereabouts of the pearl or your friend dies.”

Beckendorf lifts his head and shoots Percy a silent message: _Don’t do it! Don’t let them win!_

A few years ago, Percy might have listened. It would have been a tough decision, maybe the toughest he’d ever make, but he would have at least hesitated. Now there’s no hesitation. Percy isn’t a naive teenager anymore.

“I’ll tell you everything,” he says, ignoring Beckendorf’s shocked face.

Percy has sacrificed everything to the gods already, and they abandoned him. Now he’s turning his back on them as well.

-

“Why did you do that?” Beckendorf demands as soon as Percy’s thrown back in the brig next to him. They haven’t been allowed to see each other in weeks; part of Sciron’s interrogation strategy was to keep them apart, but now they’re just pigs in the pen, waiting for the slaughter.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Percy responds, anger flashing up within him. “We’re here because of the gods, because of my father. He needed help, so I dropped everything to find this pearl of his. But look where that got us! We’re sitting here, rotting in the dark, half dead, and he even took away my powers!”

Beckendorf falls silent for a long time. “You’ve changed, Percy.”

“Yeah, I have. I’m not going to be an errand boy for the gods anymore. What have they done for me?” Percy kicks at the puddle underneath him. “You’ve been the only person to stay by my side through thick and thin. You’ve been with me since the beginning. Of course I’m not going to trade your life for the gods.”

“It’s not just the gods that we’re fighting for. If Sciron gets his hands on that pearl, then he’s going to wreak havoc on civilization as we know it. Innocent people are going to die.”

“Screw civilization. They see us as pirates and they’d string us up in a heartbeat. It’s us against the world, Beckendorf, and I’m not going to pretend otherwise anymore.”

Percy can hardly calm down his racing heart. He wants to rage against the world, to tear down every monument and every temple to the gods, to tear down every city and town. The gods are embedded in the very fabric of the universe and he wants to tear it apart.

It’s a good thing he doesn’t have the pearl himself.

“It’s the line from the prophecy,” Beckendorf says quietly, his voice subdued. “ _The betrayal of one may be the end._ I thought it meant that one of the crew members would sabotage our mission. Now I realize that it means you.”

“I think it means the gods. My father, in particular.” Percy slams his fist against the wooden frame of the ship. “Taking away my powers when I need them most - that sounds like betrayal to me.”

“Maybe he didn’t take away your powers. Maybe you turning against him cut off your connection to his domain.” Beckendorf pulls out a few wires and gears from his pocket. “I haven’t lost any of my gifts. I could break us out of this prison in a heartbeat if I thought it could get us anywhere. But without your powers and our weapons, we’d just be imprisoned again or killed on the spot.”

Percy slumps against the wall. He feels suddenly drained, as if all the energy inside of him realized that he was a lost cause and jumped ship.

“Sciron’s going to kill us eventually anyway.” Percy’s hand drops into the puddle of water. “I don’t want them to remember me as a hero. I don’t want them to write legends about how I died for the sake of the gods.” He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will away the sting of tears. “I want to be remembered as a kid who was just trying to live his life.”

“They probably won’t remember us,” Beckendorf says. “Heroes are only remembered when they die doing great deeds, not wasting away at the bottom of a ship.”

Percy doesn’t want to die. No one truly does. He just feels so tired and worn down right now that closing his eyes and slipping away sounds like a good deal. If he knew he’d wake up next to his mother’s spirit in the Underworld, he might hazard a prayer sent Hades’ way. Hades may hate Percy, but he hates the other gods even more.

In the stillness, Percy’s mind wanders. Next to him, Beckendorf has also fallen silent, most likely thinking of Silena. Percy wishes he had good memories to fall back on, but all his good moments are tainted by tragedy.

When he tries to think of his mother and the blue food she always made for him, he inevitably ends up reliving the moment when the Minotaur killed her, his beefy hands wrapping around her neck and squeezing the life right out of her. When he tries to think of his best friend Grover and the quests they went on together, he remembers witnessing Pan’s death and how Grover changed, how he had to leave Percy and follow his new calling. When he tries to think of his half-brother Tyson, he eventually remembers the day he abruptly left, saying that their dad wanted him to work at the palace. Percy hadn’t heard so much as a peep from his father.

And Annabeth…

Gods, Percy hasn’t thought of her in weeks. After she left, he’d done his best to banish her from his mind. That whole ordeal was so incredibly painful; it was like the last stitch in his body bag. Now all those memories come rushing back.

He’d do anything to get one last sparring session with her, one last strategy conversation in the navigation room of the _Pax_ , one last quest. One last anything.

He’ll never forget how she looked that last night, when she was staring up at the stars. Then, when she turned to him, he could have sworn it was like she saw straight through him. For the first time in his life, he felt completely understood. All the thoughts and emotions he could never put to words - it was like she knew. And despite seeing him as he truly was, she still chose to be with him. 

Until she ran. She’d pulled away, her eyes wide with shock, and she’d just ran away. That was it.

Percy had lost a lot of people in his life. Most of them were killed. Some of them left because their destiny pulled them away. She was the first to actually run away.

He knew she had good intentions when she came to say goodbye the next day, but somehow it just made everything hurt worse. If she hadn’t tried to say goodbye, then maybe Percy could pretend that the whole thing had never happened. He could convince himself that nothing between them had changed.

But life rarely works that way. Especially not for him.

-

“Percy, wake up.”

Beckendorf shakes his shoulders until Percy blinks his eyes open, barely able to see anything in the darkness.

“What is it?”

“Sciron found it. The pearl.”

Percy bolts upright. “How do you know?”

“Listen.” Beckendorf points to the deck above them. Percy can hear shouting and laughter and music playing. The stomping sound of boots on the deck trickles down. “The ship stopped for a while, and then it began. I picked the lock on our cell and snuck up to make sure.”

“They didn’t see you?”

Beckendorf shakes his head. “No. But even if they did, they wouldn’t have cared. Sciron’s unstoppable now. We’re no threat to him.”

Percy feels sick to his stomach. He’s still angry at the gods, but the overwhelming tide of rage has tempered. He doesn’t regret trading the information for Beckendorf’s life, but he does feel a little guilty at how quickly he had turned.

“We’re on borrowed time now,” he says, the implications settling in.

“Maybe.” Beckendorf’s eyes gleam mischievously.

“You know something,” Percy realizes.

“I overheard some of the crew members talking. Sciron’s going to publicly execute us at sunset. It’ll be like his triumphant moment where he conquers all the lesser demigods and sons of Poseidon or something like that.”

“That sounds pretty definite to me.”

“I didn’t just sneak up on the top deck, though.” Beckendorf pauses. “I snuck around in the cargo hold and found some jars of Greek fire laying around, just asking to be used.”

Percy’s mouth opens slightly. “You didn’t.”

“I haven’t done anything yet. Well, nothing permanent yet. I moved them around the ship, placing them in critical areas. I also positioned one big batch right underneath the ladder to the top deck. One match and the ship goes up in flames. Bye bye Sciron.”

“We’d be dead, too.”

“Not if we snuck off the ship before it explodes. I also found the weapons room, so all we need is a bow and arrow. We set the arrow on fire, shoot it from a distance, and then you can use your ocean powers to protect us from the explosion.”

“Ocean powers that I don’t have anymore.”

“Percy, you lost your powers because you lost faith in the gods, not because they abandoned you. When I was sneaking around I prayed to my father, and he led me to the Greek fire. All you have to do is ask your father for forgiveness. You’re his favorite son; he’ll answer you.”

Percy doesn’t have the same level of optimism as Beckendorf, but he simply nods. “So what do you propose exactly?”

“We just need to grab the bow and arrow and sneak off the ship. They should be too distracted with their celebrations to notice us. We’ll be firing away before they even realize we’re gone.”

Anything’s better than just sitting around waiting to be executed. It’s not a half bad plan, and if there’s anyone Percy trusts, it’s Beckendorf.

“Alright. Your lead.”

Beckendorf swings the cell door open and leads them out of the brig. He grabs a torch from the corridor wall, and Percy has to blink away the dark spots while his eyes adjust to the light. They move quickly through the bottom of the ship, Beckendorf snatching up the bow and arrow while Percy grabs a replacement sword. It’s too heavy and it feels wrong in his hands, but it’s better than nothing.

They sneak up to the floor underneath the main deck without running into a single soul. This is where it gets tricky: somehow they’ll have to pick their way across the deck and over the side without anyone noticing them. Percy would have preferred to wait until dark, but unfortunately with a sunset execution appointment, they don’t have that kind of time.

Beckendorf creeps up the ladder and opens the hatch a crack. Loud music and voices cover any sounds they might make. Beckendorf crawls up and onto the deck. Percy follows, pausing half-way up the ladder to glance at the jars of Greek fire positioned behind it. One match indeed.

He closes the hatch behind him and follows Beckendorf as the former crawls along the deck, trying to hide in the shadows of the top deck. All the pirates are busy ogling the pearl, which Sciron is holding above his head in pride. So far he doesn’t seem to know how to use it, though.

Percy and Beckendorf have just reached the railing when they’re caught.

“The prisoners!” a pirate yells, and everyone turns their way.

Percy concentrates on the water, trying to summon a wave to sweep them safely overboard, but there’s not so much as a ripple. There goes Beckendorf’s idea that Percy could get his powers back.

The pirates surround them in seconds and escort them back to the middle of the deck. They create a ring around them. Beckendorf struggles against the hands holding his arms back and succeeds in moving a few feet to the right. Percy still has his sword in his hand, but his arms are held back.

Sciron pushes through the crowd, looking irritating. “You just couldn’t wait, could you?” he snaps. “I was just celebrating my moment of glory. Look, isn’t it beautiful?”

He holds out his palm, revealing the shining white pearl. It’s large, as far as pearls go, and it glows slightly, but other than that it just looks like a pearl. Percy can’t believe how much trouble he went to to retrieve such a tiny, seemingly insignificant object.

“We were going to execute you at sunset, but I suppose we’ll have to change our plans. Seriously, Percy, what did you hope to accomplish with this little stunt of yours? We would have found you eventually. Once I begin harnessing the power of the pearl to do my bidding, there’s nowhere you can hide.”

“I thought maybe the Sahara Desert,” Percy says.

Sciron scowls. “Always so funny, aren’t you? We’ll see what you have to say when you have a bullet hole in your chest.” He pats the ornate handles of his twin pistols.

The pirates force Beckendorf’s arms forward and tie his wrists together with rope. Percy struggles when they try to do the same to him. For all Beckendorf’s talk and planning, he doesn’t seem to be resisting.

In the midst of his struggle, Percy catches Beckendorf’s eyes. Beckendorf glances down at his feet and then back up at Percy again. It takes him a minute to realize that his friend is standing right over the hatch. Then Percy sees him flex his arm, a match sliding down his sleeve into his palm.

Percy widens his eyes, shaking his head. Beckendorf’s lips press together tightly before mouthing one word - no, not a word; a name.

Percy wants to scream, but he can’t. With a burst of strength he rips his arms out of the pirates’ grip and swings his sword in an arc, causing them to jump back. Sciron’s hands are on his pistols in a flash, but then a spark draws his attention away from Percy.

Beckendorf uses his strong fingers to strike the match against the ropes binding his wrists. Without hesitating, he drops it straight down, into the hatch.

Sciron’s guns are firing, the staccato pops tearing through the tense quiet, but it’s too late. For once in his life, he’s not fast enough. Percy, filled with rage and grief, pushes past the lines of shocked pirates and throws himself over the railing, sending out a prayer to his father as he falls.

Percy hears shouting and the sound of Sciron’s guns, and he feels pain ripping through his body in a half dozen different places. He hits the water hard and sinks, the weight of his grief a bag of rocks tied to his body.

He can hear the explosion even underwater. The vibrations echo, sending fish and other sea creatures scurrying away. Debris hits the water and streams down around him. The water bubbles and boils and flashes green. It’s like the end of the world.

_Don’t let Beckendorf’s death be in vain,_ Percy prays desperately as he sinks. _Please, Father, don’t let him die for nothing._

His vision blurs and he floats away into darkness.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence

**Chapter 20**

“I’ve never seen this island before in my life,” the captain swears, taking off his hat and staring at the small yet picturesque island in front of them. “My entire life I’ve sailed these waters, and there was never anything here before.”

Annabeth looks ahead at the pale sand, the turquoise water lapping gently against the shore, and the vibrant green palm trees swaying gently in the wind. She can’t see any sign of habitation except a few small row boats tied to a fallen tree just out of the water.

“Are you sure this is where you want to be dropped off?” the man asks, turning to her with an uncertain expression on his face. “This whole thing is shady to me. Islands popping up out of nowhere, looking like it’s straight out of a fairy tale.”

The more mysterious the island is, the better chance it’s part of Annabeth's world - although, it could be the lair of some terrible monster and not where her friends disappeared to. It’s always a fifty-fifty chance.

But those boats look familiar. Yes, most boats that size do look the same, but Annabeth’s gut is telling her that she’s in the right place.

“Yes,” she says, sounding confident. “This is it.”

“Alright, then. If anything happens, you know where to find me.”

Annabeth presses a small bag of coins into his hand. “Thank you so much for your help. I wish you clear skies ahead.”

The old man grunts, but he sounds pleased. Annabeth judges the distance from his fishing boat to the shore and decides she may as well swim it. She has no bags to carry, just two weapons secured tightly on her belt and the clothes on her back.

She dives over the side before the man can protest and begins crossing the distance. It’s not terribly far and she reaches the shore in about fifteen minutes. When she turns back, the man waves at her before adjusting his sails.

The sun is high overhead, but the temperature on the island isn’t so hot as to be uncomfortable. Annabeth wrings out her hair and clothes as best as she can before setting off through the woods, following a small path that hadn’t been visible from the water.

Ten minutes into her walk, the sun has already mostly dried her off and she’s noticed a strange lack of insects. She can hear them in the trees and the bushes, but they don’t come near her. In the treetops, birds sing and flutter around. Wild flowers bloom brightly in a myriad of colors.

Annabeht crests a hill and what she sees blows her mind.

She’s crossed the island almost entirely. There’s a valley below her, with a few huts in a circle, a central hearth in the very middle. There’s a few caves carved into the hillside that she’s standing on. Just behind the huts is a massive garden filled with all sorts of foods and flowers, perfectly weeded and kept up. A small lake shimmers brightly on the opposite side of the garden, and then there’s another beach just beyond that where the island once again fades into the sea. There’s a mist that covers the ocean on the other side. Annabeth and the fisherman had sailed through a similar wall in order to get close enough to see the island. Annabeth wonders if it’s a magic boundary of sorts, shielding this mysterious floating island from the rest of the world.

She stands on the hilltop for another minute before she sees a small group of people walking out of the forest. She recognizes them instantly and begins descending.

They reach the central hearth at the same time she does.

“Annabeth?”

She smiles shyly, not sure how they view her now. It’s been almost three months since she last saw them - since she left them in their time of need. “Hey, guys.”

Frank breaks out in a relieved smile. Behind him, Will pushes past to give her a hug. Nico, as usual, hangs out in the shadows, but he looks better rested than Annabeth has seen him in a while.

The rest of the crew is there as well. Annabeth exchanges greetings with them all. At the back of the group, she spots another girl.

“Silena?” Annabeth wades through the crowd of people towards her. “What are you doing here?”

Silena has red-rimmed eyes and she looks frail, as if a shout might shatter her to pieces. Still, she manages a smile when she sees Annabeth.

As Annabeth hugs her, another girl steps out of the woods. She has caramel hair braided down her back and evenly tanned skin, and she wears a cotton Greek chiffon with a braided golden belt and matching headband. Although she looks to be about the same age as them, Annabeth can see a sort of timelessness in her eyes that makes her seem a lot older.

“Calypso, this is Annabeth,” Will says. “Annabeth, meet Calypso, our gracious host.”

Calypso smiles tightly. “It’s nice to meet you, Annabeth. Welcome to Ogygia.”

-

Will and Frank take her on a tour of the island, Silena and Nico tagging along silently in the back. Once they’re out of earshot of Calypso, who had gone straight to her garden, they lower their voices and catch her up to speed.

“Calypso is this immortal daughter of a Titan. She was cursed to live here on Ogygia forever because she sided with the Titans in the first Titan War,” Frank begins.

Annabeth glances over at Silena, an earlier conversation returning to her memory. “That wasn’t the entirety of the curse, though. Wasn’t she cursed to fall in love with whoever came to the island? But it was always someone who could never stay.”

Frank nods, looking a bit surprised. “You know about her.”

“Just that much. And that Percy once landed here, and he chose not to stay.”

“Right. So Percy saved Olympus a few years ago and as part of his reward he demanded that Calypso’s curse be lifted. Well, the gods kinda complied - they lifted the part of the curse where only one person every few millenia would land here. They didn’t lift the part of the curse where Calypso is stuck here.”

“So she’s tied to the island, but people can come and go as they please?”

Frank nods again. “Ogygia’s magic still remains, so it’s hidden from mortals. And the island still moves. It was in Italy when we came to stay with her, after Sciron sank the _Pax_ , but now we’ve drifted all the way to Greece.”

“I noticed,” Annabeth says dryly. “I almost didn’t find you guys. It took me weeks.”

“Weeks?” Frank frowns. “Oh, that’s another thing - time passes differently here on the island. We’ve only been here for a few days.”

“Calypso’s turned this place into a safe haven for anyone who needs it,” Will cuts in. “She’s been incredibly kind to us, especially considering the whole Percy thing.”

“I bet she’s glad for the company, no matter who it is.” Annabeth has been agonizing over her choices for her future for the past few months, but at least she has a choice - Calypso doesn’t.

“We’re the only ones on the island right now, but she said that some of the gods have always come and visited her over the millenia and that since her curse has been lifted, a lot of displaced demigods have been around.” Frank looks sympathetically in her direction. “She’s been so sweet to everyone - I can’t believe she can be so kind after all she’s suffered.”

“So why did you guys come here instead of New Rome?”

“We weren’t sure if the power of the pearl was stronger than the magic boundaries of the camp, and we didn’t want to put all those people in danger,” Will explains. “When we came here, we were honest with Calypso from the start, but she doesn’t mind.”

“Her exact words were ‘If Sciron manages to destroy this island then maybe I can finally leave it,’” Frank adds.

“Calypso was born thousands of years before Sciron if she was a Titan’s daughter,” Annabeth reasons. “She was trapped here before Sciron died the first time. No wonder she’s not afraid of him.”

“Don’t take this wrong way, Annabeth,” Will says, “but why did you come back? I thought you were in love with that blond guy.”

“I was,” she says. “Still am, to be honest. But I couldn’t return to the normal world after living in this one. As a woman, I had almost no rights. They treated me like a porcelain doll that had fallen off the top shelf. In this world, people don’t really care if you’re a man or a woman. All that matters is who you are.” Annabeth scuffs at the sand with her boot. “Also...I kept having nightmares. I almost skewered my maid when she woke me up one day. And then there was this huge storm one night. It was so violent that I was sure Poseidon himself was coming after me.”

Frank and Will glance at each other, then at the ground.

“I came to finish the mission,” Annabeth continues. “I came because I left Percy and Beckendorf rotting at the bottom of Sciron’s ship, and I couldn’t live without knowing what happened to them. When that storm came, I could feel it in my soul that something horrible had happened. I thought - “ Her voice catches. “I thought that Percy might have died.”

Frank and Will don’t meet her eyes. She looks past them at Nico, whose eyes are darker than ever as he distractedly spins his skull ring around his finger. And then she looks at Silena, who has tears streaking down her face.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Annabeth presses, not wanting to hear it but needing to know. She travelled hundreds of miles by herself because she couldn’t go on without knowing. “Sciron killed them.”

Frank covers his face with his hand, and Annabeth realizes he’s crying. Will clears his throat.

“There was an explosion a few weeks ago. A nereid witnessed it and reported it back to us. Someone rigged Sciron’s ship with Greek fire and blew it sky high. No one could have survived it.”

Annabeth looks back at Nico, who looks as if he’s trying to slink into the shadows. “Can you feel it when someone dies?” she asks him. “Do you know for sure?”

Nico glances over at Silena before answering. “Every soul that was on that ship is now in the Underworld,” he says.

“And Percy and Beckendorf - they were on that ship.”

Nico pauses before nodding once.

Although part of Annabeth had known the moment she woke up during that storm, she still feels as though she’s been gutted. She staggers back a step, then another.

“We waited a couple weeks just to be certain,” Will says. “Then we sent out word to the others. We’re burning their shrouds tonight.”

So that’s why Silena’s here. She came for Beckendorf’s funeral. Annabeth remembers how happy they looked that night in New Rome. She can’t even begin to imagine how painful this must be for the other girl.

Annabeth’s heart literally aches, and she and Percy weren’t even together. How does Silena even have the strength to stand?

Calypso walks over to them at that moment. She takes one look at Annabeth’s face and she knows that her timing couldn’t have been worse - or better. She smiles sadly and takes Annabeth’s arm gently.

“Come,” she says. “I’ll make you something to wear for tonight.”

Annabeth follows her along the path back to the little village, her mind completely frozen for once in her life.

-

“Percy wasn’t an easy person to love,” Calypso says as she sits down at her loom and begins weaving. Annabeth sits on a stool nearby, holding her arms to keep herself from falling apart. “He always has this sense of duty. He could never leave his friends when they were in danger, and he would risk everything to keep them safe.”

Annabeth tries to imagine Percy and Beckendorf realizing that the only way to stop Sciron was to blow him and his crew up - even if it meant sacrificing themselves. The saddest part is that it’s easy for her to picture in her mind. That was Percy’s fatal flaw: he would do anything for his friends.

“It was different between us,” Annabeth says, winces as her heart clenches in her chest. She feels like someone has their fist around it and is squeezing as tightly as they can. “I rejected him. I left him on that ship to die.”

“There was nothing you could, Annabeth. Percy was so stubborn. He wouldn’t have left as long as Sciron was a threat. And from what the others told me, there was no way to take him down. He created the perfect trap.”

“My mother used to say that there’s always another way out. There must have been some way in which we could have saved everyone. I just wasn’t smart enough to think it through.” Annabeth hangs her head. “That’s why Percy liked me. He liked how intelligent I was. In the end, I wasn’t smart enough to save him.”

“You’re starting to sound like him.” Calypso’s fingers weave expertly, blurring together as she works. “Out of all the heroes that came to my island, none were as selfless and insecure as him.”

“Percy didn’t consider himself a hero. He said he was more like the gods’ errand boy.”

“But the gods only send the greatest of heroes to my island.” Calypso pauses to flip her hair back over her shoulder. “I knew Hercules, Achilles, Odysseus, Jason, Perseus, Theseus, and many others whose names even you would recognize. All the men who came to my island were the greatest heroes of their times. Percy is the one who came in this century. Whether he considers himself it or not, he’s one the greatest heroes to walk the earth.”

“I remember when I first realized who he was. He explained what it was like being a demigod. He told me that he didn’t have a choice. He could either serve the gods or bad things would happen to him. He told me about some of the heroes who tried to retire and what happened to them. He said he liked to think that it was his choice, even though deep down he knew it wasn’t.” Annabeth wipes at her eyes. “He was so sad. He was a terrible liar, especially to himself. He knew all along exactly what his life would be like.”

Calypso’s eyes swim as she weaves. It might be Annabeth’s imagination, but her fingers seem to work furiously now. 

“That’s why he was different than most of the heroes who landed on my island. Hercules and Odysseus and Perseus and even Theseus - they all thought themselves invincible. And don’t even get me started on Achilles. When they were trapped here with me, they treated it as a kind of vacation. I healed them, fell in love with them, and they took advantage of me. And I let them, because I was so lonely and desperate to be loved back. But Percy wasn’t like that. He spent every day pacing the beach, worrying about his crew mates and his friends. When he spent time with me, he genuinely gave me his attention. He cared about the real me, not just the fantasy of a beautiful girl living alone on an island for all eternity. He knew what it was like to be played by the gods,” Calypso has to stop to wipe at her own face. “His leaving broke my heart more than any of the others. When they left, I was mad at the gods for my curse. When Percy left, I was furious with him. He claimed to be so loyal to his friends, and then he left me behind.”

“He didn’t have a choice,” Annabeth whispers. She doesn’t feel jealous hearing about Percy and Calypso’s story; she just feels even more sorrow for the both of them. They’re both pawns, pushed around by the gods when they get bored.

Calypso shakes her head. “No. He couldn’t have stayed, even if he wanted to. The gods are cruel in that way. But Percy didn’t forget me. He couldn’t stay on Ogygia, but he was loyal to me. He demanded the gods to release me from my curse. All the other heroes who stayed here, who claimed to love me - some of them have become gods, and even they haven’t returned.”

“Percy would have been a terrible god. He’s much too mortal.”

Calypso smiles weakly. “Yes, he is. And that is why he’s so good.”

She unthreads her loom, ties off some pieces, and then ducks into her cave for a few minutes. When she returns, she has a beautiful white dress tailored to Annabeth’s exact size.

“Thank you,” Annabeth says as she accepts it. “And not just for the dress.”

-

As the afternoon wears on, more and more people begin arriving. Annabeth stands on the beach with Frank, welcoming them all with tight smiles and even tighter hugs.

Jason, Piper, and Hazel from New Rome arrive together in a small boat. Rachel travels in by herself, her red hair a stark contrast to the black dress and shawl she’s wearing. Grover and a few nature spirits blow in - literally.

Last to arrive is a girl with spiky black hair, electric blue eyes, and wearing silver jewelry in places Annabeth didn’t know a girl could wear jewelry. She’s flanked by a couple girls, also wearing black and silver.

Annabeth stares at her, an old memory resurfacing in her mind. When she and Thalia face each other, she can see the other girl pause as well.

“I know you,” Annabeth says.

“Yes,” Thalia responds slowly.

“Your mother used to sing at some of the parties I went to when I was younger. We used to hide from the adults and sneak off to play in an abandoned room.” Annabeth frowns. “But you used to be years older than me.”

“I’ve been immortal for a few years now. It seems you’ve caught up to me.” Thalia smirks. “There was a guy, too, wasn’t there? Blond hair, blue eyes. He was always pick-pocketing things and getting into trouble for it. Luke, right?”

“Yes,” Annabeth agrees, although she feels another pang go through her heart. The hurt she feels for Luke is completely different than the hurt she feels for Percy, but it’s still pain.

“I haven’t seen him since I ran away and my mother died. How is he?”

“He’s good,” Annabeth manages. “He’s not - he’s not part of this world, though.”

Thalia nods in understanding. “How did you end up here? Last I saw of you, you were playing dress up and being forced to learn manners.”

“Percy,” is all she can say. Once again, Thalia nods as if that’s all the answer she needs. She claps a hand on Annabeth’s shoulder.

“It’s good to see you again. It’s too bad it’s under these circumstances.”

When Percy had told Annabeth about his friend Thalia, she had never imagined it was the same Thalia that she had grown up with. Annabeth, Luke, and Thalia had been friends for years before Thalia had suddenly disappeared. Her mother had died shortly after, and though Annabeth was sad, she hadn’t thought about the girl in years. She had just been a kid when it all happened.

Seeing Thalia again like this is so strange and yet it also feels so right. It’s like all the loose threads in Annabeth’s life are tying up. Each time one does, it reassures Annabeth that she made the right decision to return, even if it’s so painful in so many ways.

-

Everyone gathers on the beach after sunset. Two funeral pyres are created side-by-side, one covered in a sea green shroud the shade of Percy’s eyes (Calypso had remembered even years later) and other the color of the fire in a forge with a hammer embroidered in the middle. The ground around the pyres is covered with a silver flower that bloomed as soon as the moon rose and casts a hauntingly beautiful glow over the proceedings.

Without meaning to, Annabeth and Silena somehow end up at the front of the pyres, their backs to the sea. Everyone else stands on the opposite side, looking to them.

Annabeth vaguely recognizes that the white dress she’s wearing is the one from her nightmares. She’d seen this coming from the very beginning, but she had no idea that it would be Percy’s shroud on the funeral pyre - and that it would be two of her friends dying, not just one.

A hush falls over those gathered, until the only sounds are the waves against the shore, the rustle of the leaves in the soft wind, and the background hum of insects waking up. Silena steps up to Beckendorf’s pyre, placing her hands gently against the stone table.

“Charlie was - he was - ” She breaks into sobs and steps back, unable to speak. 

Annabeth realizes that everyone’s looking to her now. She definitely did not prepare for this.

“Beckendorf was one of the greatest heroes I’ve ever met,” she begins, reaching out and wrapping an arm around Silena and holding her tightly. “He was intelligent, kind, and brave. Whenever something went wrong, he was the first person to show up, ready to face whatever the problem might be. And for us, the problem could be literally anything, from a gear out of place to an angry god. But he never once faltered. He adapted to every situation flawlessly, and his confidence in the face of danger was an inspiration to all of us. On the _Pax_ , he was Percy’s best friend, but he was also a crew member, and his ease with people turned him into the glue that held us all together. He was a bridge between stations and a friend to everyone. He was one of the first people I turned to for support and guidance, always seeming to know exactly when I needed help or just someone to listen. He was optimistic even in the face of the worst odds, and he never lost faith, which is something most of us can’t say.” Annabeth squeezes Silena’s shoulder. “Beckendorf didn’t just die a hero; he lived as a hero.”

There are a lot of sniffles in the crowd. A few other crew members step up and share stories about Beckendorf or speak more about him. Someone hands Silena a golden Drachma, and she places it in on the shroud.

Everyone settles back in again, Silena retreating to the audience, and Annabeth knows that it’s Percy’s turn. Although she knows it’s not fair to him, the words just don’t flow out of her mouth like they did for Beckendorf. Her relationship with Beckendorf was the same as them, and it was easy to call up good memories. With Percy, her relationship was much more complicated. She thinks of just as many bad memories as good ones.

“Percy’s fatal flaw was that he would do anything for the people he cared about,” she finally begins. “He died trading his life for ours. And he died to save us from a huge threat. His whole life was one of sacrifice, so it just seems unfair that it had to end that way. But life isn’t fair, and there’s no one who knows that better than us.” Annabeth wipes at her face. “Percy was a complicated person. His moods changed like the sea; oftentimes friendly and warm, but other times violent and dangerous. He could be the nicest person you ever met, or he could be the last thing you saw before Hades. Those of us who knew him well, we understood. We accepted him as he was. He was our captain and our leader, a person we never underestimated and never doubted. No matter what threat we faced, we knew that with him, we would come out on the other end of it.”

She looks out at the crew gathered and sees people nodding.

“Percy didn’t like to think of himself as a hero. He was hyper aware of his insecurities and his shortcomings. He didn’t want to be held to a standard that he thought he fell short of. He preferred to call himself a pirate for this very reason. But he was wrong. He was the opposite of a pirate in every way that matters. He was brave and selfless and more generous than most of us could ever dream of being. He wasn’t just a hero; he raised the bar for what a hero should be.”

More nods. Annabeth releases the breath she’d been holding. She was worried that the others would think her eulogy too harsh, or too fake, but it’s exactly what they needed to hear.

“Percy Jackson was never ours to have. He belongs to the sea, and it’s time we release him.”

Frank steps up and hands one torch to Annabeth and one to Silena. Together, the girls stand at the front of the pyres and touch the flames to the kindling.

Beckendorf’s fire is red and true, while Percy’s burns a blue color. Annabeth smiles a little through her tears; he would’ve liked that it was blue.

From the edge of the circle, Calypso begins to sing. Her voice is hauntingly beautiful, and Annabeth is swept away in it. She reaches over for Silena and they hold each other until all that’s left is ashes blowing away into the light of the rising dawn.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence
> 
> Author's Note: Calypso/Leo is my NOTP so their relationship will remain neutral in this story

**Chapter 21**

“You knew Beckendorf was going to die from the beginning.”

Annabeth and Rachel walk side by side along the beach. The sun has just risen, and most of their friends return to the huts to sleep, exhausted from staying up all night for the funeral. Although Annabeth is exhausted, she doesn’t dare close her eyes out of fear of the nightmares that she knows she’ll have. Rachel’s bright green eyes are alert, although they have dark circles underneath.

“I did have a vision about him.” Rachel wraps her shawl around her shoulders. “I’ve seen how knowing the future, especially prophecies about certain death, can ruin a person, so I didn’t tell him. It’s better to not know when you’re going to die.”

Annabeth remembers how Rachel had looked at Beckendorf sadly when they had visited her cave for the prophecy. She hadn’t understood it at the time, but looking back she feels a heavy sense of dread fill her.

“Exactly how much of what happened did you know?”

“I saw Sciron with the pearl. I saw Beckendorf drop the match that blew up the ship. I saw you returning to England with your fiancé.” Rachel shakes her head, her red curls bouncing against her shoulder. “I didn’t see you coming back, though. And I didn’t see Percy’s death.”

She tucks her neck into her chest, looking troubled. Annabeth knows better than to ask what she’s seen of the future.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Annabeth says instead. “I keep thinking of the prophecy and how it hasn’t been completely fulfilled. So many of the lines haven’t happened.”

“People don’t always fully understand prophecies.”

Annabeth shakes her head. “No, it’s not that. This feels incomplete.”

“Obsessing over it will only frustrate you.” Rachel stops in front of a simple wooden raft that’s washed up on shore. “It’s time for me to leave. The magic of Ogygia messes with my powers. As long as I stay here, I’m blind.”

“That raft is going to get you all the way to your cave?”

“It’s a magical raft.” Rachel pauses in front of it. “So what will you do now, Annabeth? You came back for Percy, but he’s not here anymore. You burned all the bridges to your past life, so you can no longer return.”

“I don’t know yet.” Annabeth stares out across the clear water, but for once there’s no simple solution that comes to mind. “I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Whatever you decide, good luck.” Rachel gives her a half hug before boarding the raft. It floats off, disappearing into the mist.

Annabeth stands at the shore for a few more minutes before finally turning back and hiking to the village.

-

All the guests except for Silena and the crew of the _Pax_ leave. Thalia tries to talk Annabeth into joining the Hunters, saying that even though Annabeth is older than the standard Hunter, she’d still be welcome. Annabeth tells her she’ll give it some thought but makes no promises.

Jason, Piper, and Hazel give Annabeth a hug and sad smile as they depart. They thank her for the beautiful eulogy she delivered, even though it was only half of what Annabeth really wanted to say.

Grover and the nature spirits offer Annabeth a place with them, but it doesn’t feel right so she respectfully declines.

With most of the people gone, the island falls into a strange stillness. Calypso returns to her gardening and weaving, mostly keeping her distance. Annabeth walks around a lot, sometimes with Frank or Will but mostly by herself. Silena also drifts around aimlessly. When Annabeth asks why she didn’t return to New Rome with the others, she simply said, “What’s the point? That place is nothing without Charlie.”

Things start to get exciting around mid-afternoon. Will runs through the forest, skidding to a stop in front of Annabeth.

“Have you seen Nico today?” he asks, breathless.

“No. Why?”

“No one’s seen him since yesterday. I think he disappeared during the funeral - there were plenty of shadows for him to disappear into.”

“He didn’t say anything to anyone?”

“No. Not to a single person.” Will’s jaw clenches. “Percy’s dog is gone, too. Mrs. O’Leary. She probably followed Nico.”

“I don’t think there’s anything we can do, then. Nico’s his own person. He does what he wants. It’s not like we can track his shadow-travelling.”

Will looks away, glaring at the sea as if it’s at fault for Nico disappearing. “I just can’t believe he wouldn’t say anything. I thought - " He shakes his head.

Annabeth opens her mouth to respond but she’s interrupted by a shadow covering the sun. She and Will both shade their eyes and look up as a large dark object soars across the sky, circling lower towards the island. As it moves away from the sun, Annabeth can see that it’s made of metal. Suddenly it drops, a bone-rattling vibration travelling through the ground and up their bodies.

Without a word Annabeth and Will run towards the opposite side of the island. It only takes them a few minutes, but a crowd has already gathered. Annabeth pushes through and gasps.

“Is that...a dragon?”

Will appears at her shoulder. “An automaton, by the looks of it,” he says.

A short figure slides off the back of the dragon and stumbles on the sand. The crowd parts as Calypso pushes her way through.

“What is this?” she demands, her hands on her hips.

Metal plates and gears are scattered along the once-pristine beach along with newly scorched trees. The dragon creaks and tips its head, black oil spilling out of its ear.

The figure pulls a wrench out of the toolbag hanging around his waist and reaches up to scratch the back of his head with it. Annabeth can see that he has dark, curly hair and his skin and clothes are covered in grease smudges and sand.

“Sorry,” he says, looking sheepish. “My dragon was malfunctioning, and this was the only land for miles.”

“Ugh!” Calypso throws her hands into the air. “Just make sure you clean it all up.”

The guy - just a kid, really, a couple years younger than Annabeth, mock-salutes. “Yes, ma’am.”

Calypso disappears, heading back towards the village, followed by most of the crew. Annabeth braves the dragon and walks up to the kid.

“Don’t mind her,” she says. “We’re kinda going through a tough time right now. We just lost some good friends of ours.”

“Impeccable timing, as usual.” He sighs. “I’m Leo. This is Festus.”

The dragon turns its ruby eyes to Annabeth and the gears by its jaw spin and click together.

“I’m hoping that means ‘Nice to meet you’ and not ‘I’m about to burn you to a crisp’,” Annabeth says dryly. 

Leo’s shoulders relax at her attempt at humor. “Yeah, Festus is a good dragon. He only burns monsters to a crisp. Mostly.”

“I feel so much better.”

There’s a strangled cry behind them, and Annabeth turns to see Silena staring at the dragon in shock. Festus sits straight up and makes an almost humming sound when he sees her.

“Festus? Do you know her?” Leo sets a hand on the bronze hide of his dragon, his eyebrows furrowed together.

Silena approaches cautiously, her dark eyes open wide. “Where did you find that dragon?” she demands.

“It was in some woods in Greece. My father led me to him. He was buried neck-deep in a hole.”

“Not a hole. A trap.” Silena takes another step closer. She slowly raises her arm and holds it out towards the dragon, who sniffs (can a metal dragon sniff?) it before nuzzling it with his nose.

Leo stares at her. “How did you know?”

“Because I helped set up the trap.” Silena uses her palms to wipe at her eyes. “Charlie and I - “ she falters for a moment. “We were on a mission with Percy, and Charlie was taken captive by Myrmekes. There were too many of them for us to fight, and while we were trying to find another solution we stumbled upon the dragon. He was curled up in the woods, long deactivated. We managed to turn him on and he went haywire, destroying the Myrmekes and giving us the time we needed to free Charlie. But then he turned on us, so we had to set a trap. Charlie didn’t want to leave him, but we didn’t have a choice. It needed more work than we could afford.”

“Luckily he doesn’t seem mad at you.” Leo strokes its side. “It took me weeks of work to unbury him, fix his control disk, and take care of all the other damages. Then I had to attach the wings. But we got through it, didn’t we, boy?”

Festus groans and clicks again.

“You said your father led you to him…” Annabeth says. “Is there any chance your dad is a god?”

Leo doesn’t seem surprised. “Yeah, why?”

She inhales sharply. Silena begins to cry again.

“Shoot. Did I say something wrong?” Leo reaches into his toolbelt and pulls out a handkerchief, which he offers to Silena.

“Charles Beckendorf - the guy she was talking about - he’s one of the people who just died,” Annabeth whispers. “He was also a son of Hephaestus.”

Leo looks super awkward. Annabeth doesn’t blame him.

“Here,” Annabeth says, wrapping an arm around Silena and nodding her head at Leo. “Let’s go meet up with the others. We’ll tell you our whole story, and then you can tell us yours.”

-

Frank, Will, Silena, Leo, and Annabeth sit around the central hearth. Just a few feet away, well within earshot, Calypso sits at her loom and works, humming slightly under her breath. There’s a little girl, maybe eight, sitting at the hearth and tending the flames that Annabeth doesn’t recognize, but the others don’t seem surprised at her presence. Leo pulls out a few wires and gears while they talk, creating and dissembling small machines absently. Annabeth doesn’t have the heart to tell him that Beckendorf used to do the exact same thing.

Leo and Beckendorf couldn’t look more different from each other. Beckendorf had dark skin, a large, muscular build, and a deep voice. Leo’s skin is a much lighter tan, he has a slight frame bordering on scrawny, and his voice is higher pitched. But they both have quick fingers, the same look in their eyes as if the gears in their brains are turning while they examine each problem as if it’s a broken machine, and a slightly awkward bearing. Beckendorf was more confident in himself, though, an older, more experienced version of Leo.

Silena can’t bear to look at Leo. Annabeth doesn’t blame her.

After they catch him up on their adventures, Leo tells his story. He talks about how after his mother died when he was young, he was passed around his family before being dropped off at an orphanage. He had a few families take him in (“apparently I was a very cute little kid”) but it never worked out and he would always run away. Finally, a few months ago, he had a dream from his father who explained his parentage and gave him direction to the dragon. He fixed Festus up and they’ve been flying around since.

“Until we got attacked by those giants on the coast,” Leo amends. “They really did a number on Festus. We got away, but he was too badly damaged to fly far. This was the first island we saw so we tried to set down for repairs.” He glances guiltily at Calypso, who is weaving furiously now.

“So what exactly have you been doing?” Frank asks. He sits as far away from the fire while still being in the circle as possible. 

Leo shrugs. “Flying around, visiting important places. I just found some of Archimedes’ spheres.” He looks around, and when no one reacts, his eyes grow wide. “You guys know how important that discovery is, right?”

Frank looks embarrassed. Will runs a hand through his hair. “Should I know who Archimedes is..?”

“He was an important Greek scientist and mathematician,” Annabeth says, remembering some of her classical studies.

Leo looks at her in admiration. “So there is a sign of intelligent life,” he says. He holds out his most recent creation in the palm of his hand. It’s a small circle with concentric rings. “So, Archimedes figured out all the math involving spheres and even created some himself. I’ve only scratched the surface on what these babies can do.”

“And what exactly do you plan to do with these spheres?” Will asks, an eyebrow raised.

Leo shrugs. “Once I figure out what they can do, then I’m sure I’ll find a use for them.”

Franks grunts in disapproval. Leo tucks his mini spheres into his tool belt and stands.

“Nice chat, but I’ve got to get back to my dragon. I have a lot of repairs to make before we can leave.”

Everyone drifts away from the fire after that, except the young girl. She smiles up at Annabeth, and she realizes that the girls’ eyes are as timeless and ancient as Calypso’s.

“You’re lost, Annabeth Chase.”

Annabeth blinks. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“No.” The girl prods the fire gently with a stick. A few sparks drift up into the air before fading away. “I am Hestia, goddess of home and the hearth.”

Ares is the only other god Annabeth has met so far, and Hestia is so different from him that Annabeth isn’t sure how to react.

Hestia doesn’t seem bothered by her silence. “You were taken from your home and found another one among the crew of the _Pax_. Then you left that home to return from where you came, only to find that it was no longer home. You came here, only to find things were not as you left them. Now you are not sure where to go.”

“The _Pax_ was destroyed. The crew is here for now, but how long until they all go their separate ways?” Annabeth draws her knees up to her chest. “I didn’t think things through. I let my emotions control me, and look where I’ve ended up. A magical, floating island.”

“Home is often where we least expect it. And it is not always a place, Annabeth. Often it can be a person.”

“I don’t have a place or a person anymore.” Annabeth tosses a stray leaf into the flames. “It’s just me.”

“Don’t sell yourself so short.” Hestia raises her eyes, and Annabeth can see that in the very center, in the middle of the warm brown color, are flames. Then she disappears in thin tendrils of smoke that float up in the evening air.

Annabeth stands and begins walking aimlessly. Her legs take her to the beach just beyond the village. She stares over the ocean, longing and grief filling the void in her heart.

Hestia was right about one thing, at least - Annabeth is lost. She has no idea where to go from here. She wonders if she’ll end up like Leo, chasing legends and myths with no clear purpose. She looks across the beach, where Festus is hidden just behind a row of charred trees. Between the leaves she gets glimpses of sparkling bronze and she can hear Leo talk to himself - or maybe to Festus. Is that the path she’s heading on?

The breeze picks up, and for the first time since coming to Ogygia Annabeth feels a slight chill. She’s still wearing the white dress from the funeral, the cotton thin and light. Her hair drifts upward on the next draft, blowing in her face.

Annabeth reaches back to pull it out of the way when something on the horizon freezes her. The clouds above are growing darker, and there’s a black spot on the sea ahead. It grows closer even as she watches, moving at an impossible speed.

When it gets close enough that Annabeth can see the black sails straining against the wind, the rain begins. Annabeth knows this scene. She’s seen it a dozen times in her nightmares. She still can’t believe it’s real, though.

She turns and runs back to the village. “Sciron’s back!” she screams. “He’s coming!”

The doors to the huts open and crew members step out, looking at her like she’s crazy. She ignores them, running straight to Frank.

“Sciron’s back,” she repeats.

“But his ship - it blew up -”

“And somehow he survived. He’s coming towards the island, and he has the pearl.” Annabeth waits impatiently as he processes the information. “So?”

“So what?”

She throws her hands up in the air. “You’re the captain, Frank. Now that Percy’s gone - “ her voice catches. “You’re in charge. The men will listen to you.”

He hesitates before nodding. “Okay.” He reaches back and grabs his spear, staring at it like it will give him the answers he needs. “I’ll - I’ll get everyone to the beach.”

The winds pick up as the crew members arm themselves and run to the beach. There are hurricane force winds on the horizon now, and Annabeth feels as though she’s fighting for every single step.

Sciron’s ship is close enough now for her to see him standing at the bow, the pearl in his hand. He leaps off the side, his own personal hurricane surrounding him and transporting him to the beach. He reappears right in front of Annabeth.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks, holding it up. “And so powerful. When my foolish half-brother and his friend tried blowing up my ship, it protected me. I was blown a few hundred miles off-course, but I’m very much alive.” He lowers his hand and fixes his storm blue eyes on her. “How does it feel to know they died in vain?”

Annabeth feels rage coursing through her body, but she knows better than to react. That’s what he’s expecting of her. That’s what he wants her to do.

“You know, I didn’t expect to see you again.” Sciron tosses the pearl in the air and catches it, as if it isn’t a super powerful force. “I thought you’d run away with that blond-haired soldier boy.”

Her hand drifts to her dagger but before she can attack, a few arrows whiz past her ear towards Sciron. A thin shield of water flows up and blocks them.

“Looks like your friends have arrived.” Sciron takes a step back. “I haven’t tested out the full power of the pearl yet. I was saving it for you. Enjoy the show.” He winks at her before a jetstream of water lifts him into the air and out of the range of their weapons.

A huge wave comes sweeping towards them. Annabeth turns and runs, heading for higher ground. The other crew members are also running around her. The wave hits, knocking them all down. Annabeth is lost under the water for a minute before the wave recedes. She crouches on her hands and knees and gasps for air.

She turns back to see that the sky has now darkened considerably. The earth shakes beneath them as they try to stand, and the wind and rain pummels them from both sides.

“There’s no fighting this,” Annabeth says as she crawls over to Frank. “We can’t get close enough to Sciron to take him down, and we can’t fight the elements.”

Frank stabs his spear into the ground in frustration. “If only Percy were here, he’d know what to do.” He hangs his hand. “I’m a terrible replacement. I’m weak compared to him.”

“That’s not true,” Annabeth protests, but she doesn’t have time to deal with his identity crisis right now. They have bigger issues.

Another tremor vibrates through the ground. Sciron, hovering twenty feet above them on his jet stream, looks down in cruel fascination and pleasure. Trees sway and creak and fall. Lightning flashes in the sky overheard. In the distance, a tsunami forms.

For once in her life, Annabeth has absolutely no idea what to do.

A high-pitched war cry sounds out from above, and Annabeth looks to the sky to see Festus the dragon soaring down, claws outstretched and aimed straight at Sciron. Sciron turns a second too late, and Festus opens his jaws, sending out a massive plume of fire.

Water douses it before it can do any damage, but Sciron isn’t prepared for a ten ton metal dragon to smash into him. Annabeth sees a glimpse of a rider between Festus’ wings before he and Sciron go tumbling into the violent waters. They smash into Sciron’s ship with an explosion of water that combats the incoming tsunami. 

The storm around them begins to quiet down as the water bubbles and hisses.

“I can’t believe Leo would risk his life for us,” Frank says, watching in shock and awe. “He only knew us for a few hours.”

A figure suddenly streaks past them, heading straight towards the water. “Festus!!!” he cries in anguish.

Annabeth and Frank turn to each other. “Wait. If that was Leo, then who was riding the dragon?”

They climb to their feet and follow Leo, who has dropped to his knees in the tide. The clouds overhead are disappointing, the ocean quieting down. Sciron’s ship had disappeared in the mist.

The tide flows in, depositing a hunk of metal at Leo’s feet. He turns it over, revealing Festus’ severed head. He drops his forehead against the dragons’, crying softly. Annabeth sets a heavy hand on his shoulder.

The next wave brings in an even worse sight: a body. Annabeth’s feet drag her over to it, her heart filled with lead. She kneels down and brushes the long, dark hair to the side, revealing Silena’s badly burned face.

“Oh gods.” Annabeth scoops up the girls’ body into her lap. “Not you, too.”

Will rushes over, his medical bag in his hand, but even before he shakes his head solemnly Annabeth knows it’s a lost cause.

“She saved us all,” Annabeth says quietly. “Her and Festus.”

All the survivors gather around. Silence falls, even the birds not daring to sing. All Annabeth can taste is salt - salt from the waves and salt from her tears.

Annabeth had thought that she would be the sacrifice to satisfy the sea monster, but in the end it was Silena.

“Do you think Sciron is actually dead this time?” Frank asks quietly.

“No.” Annabeth strokes Silena’s hair. “And we have to be ready for him next time.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence
> 
> Author's Note: Sorry, Piper, but Leo and Annabeth are the real best friends. It's even hinted at in canon even though Rick deprived us of an actual interaction between the two of them. Oh well. That's what I'm here for.

**Chapter 22**

Somehow, the destruction looks even worse in the gray morning light.

Annabeth walks around the island, picking up pieces of debris and lost weapons. All but two of the huts had been destroyed, and those have now been converted to infirmaries. Will and Calypso breeze in and out. They stayed up all night trying to stabilize the wounded, and now they’re taking shifts sleeping and working.

Annabeth dumps a load of wood next to the hearth as Will staggers out, his shift over. He sits heavily down on the sand next to where she stands.

“Do you think he left on purpose?” he asks, wiping at his eyes.

“Who?”

“Nico. He can sense death, right? Did he know there was an attack coming so he left?”

Annabeth can’t even begin to imagine what goes on the son of Hades’ head, but she does know that Will is exhausted and emotional and not thinking straight right now.

“I think that Nico is on his own path, and sometimes it takes him to different places. There’s no use in trying to understand some things.” Annabeth finds a blanket and hands it to Will. “You should rest while you can.”

Everyone that isn’t seriously injured works all day. In the evening, they have another funeral. Although it’s not fair to those who died, the affair is much more muted than Percy and Beckendorf’s service. There are no lengthy speeches, no beautiful eulogies. If someone wants to say something to one of the people who died, they simply walk up to the pyre and say it to themselves.

Annabeth lights Silena’s pyre, the shroud colored the same pale pink as the dress she always wore. As it burns, it smells like roses. After she lights it, she melts back to the edge of the crowd. Leo and Calypso are standing just a few feet away from her, talking quietly.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Calypso says. “Your dragon saved our lives. Sciron wouldn’t have stopped until we were all dead.”

“Yeah, well. Silena told me that Festus was originally built to protect people like us from monsters. I guess I should have seen it coming.”

He pulls out his wires and gears and fiddles around with them, not looking anyone in the eye.

“Are you going to stay?” Calypso asks.

“Someone has to fix up your home. May as well be me.”

Annabeth drifts back to the remains of the village after that, not having the energy to stay any longer. As she lays on the warm sand and stares up at the stars, all she can think about is her last night with Percy. She traces the constellation of Zöe the Huntress with her eyes and finally understands what Percy meant when he said it wasn’t easy to end up in the sky anymore. It took Zöe three thousand years of being a hero.

If it were as easy to end up in the skies as it was in Ancient Greek times, Annabeth would be seeing Percy, Beckendorf, Silena, and a dragon-shaped constellation.

-

Annabeth sits on the storm-damaged beach, watching the tide advance and retreat. She used to love the light breeze that swept off the surface of the water and the smell of salt, but now the sound of the waves brings her only sorrow. She’s lost too many people to it.

Leo splashes around in the waves for a couple hours, searching for more pieces of Festus. He finds a few neck plates and one of the ruby eyes, but nothing else. He finally gives up and heads to his make-shift workshop, a ramshackle building he’d constructed from driftwood and pieces of the destroyed huts. The sound of his forge echoes across the tiny island. 

The wounded heal remarkably fast under the care of Calypso - “it’s part of the island’s magic,” she assures Will - which frees her up to focus on her hosting duties. She brings around trays of warm bread and roast along with mugs of cider. Leo sets down his hammer long enough to eat and Annabeth, though not hungry, accepts a roll and cider.

She keeps thinking about her conversations with Rachel and Hestia. Rachel had asked what she would do next. Hestia had told her that she was lost and talked about what a home means. Annabeth wonders if she should just stay on Ogygia and keep Calypso company for all eternity. Could Ogygia be her new home?

No. Calypso doesn’t do much more than Annabeth would have done if she had stayed in England with Luke. Not that it’s Calypso’s fault - she’s stranded here. Annabeth still has a choice.

She remembers Percy telling her about a place like New Rome in Greece. Maybe she should go there. Percy had said he’d trained there before striking out on his own. Annabeth knows she still has a lot to learn about this world, so it would be a good place to stay while she studies all the myths and learns how they’ve transitioned to the modern world.

Annabeth is so preoccupied with her thoughts that she almost doesn’t notice when a figure emerges from the sea. From a distance, she first thinks it’s Sciron and shouts a warning. As he continues walking, Annabeth realizes her mistake.

She jumps to her feet and stands, pinching herself to make sure she isn’t dreaming. Then she takes off, running across the beach and into the water. She nearly tackles him as she slams into him, wrapping her arms around him.

He holds her for a moment before his arms slip away. Annabeth leans back and cups her hands around his face, not entirely convinced he’s real.

“Percy,” she whispers, staring into his sea green eyes.

She hears the others running across the sand and she takes a step back, realizing that she’s making a scene. Frank pushes past her and wraps up Percy in a bear hug. Percy pats his back a couple times before untangling himself. As he steps away, Annabeth realizes that there’s something different about him, although she can’t place what it is exactly.

Will pushes through the crowd next and gives him a hug. Percy scans the shoreline, his brow furrowing.

“Where are we, exactly?” he asks. Then he catches a glimpse of Calypso, standing alone on the shore, and his eyes widen. “Never mind.”

Annabeth hadn’t been jealous when Calypso was telling her about Percy’s time on her island, but watching the way Percy stares at her now, she feels her chest constrict. Without even thinking about it, she takes a step back. Percy doesn’t seem to notice, but Frank and Will both shoot her sympathetic looks.

The tension of the moment is broken when Leo, covered in soot and grease stains, a pair of goggles pushed up into his curly hair, pushes to the front and looks at Percy skeptically.

“Who _are_ you?” 

-

Percy isn’t the only person to magically reappear on the island. Nico stumbles out of a shadow of a tree as they’re walking back to the remains of the village, practically falling right into Will’s arms. Mrs. O’Leary is at his heels, wagging her tail in delight when she sees Percy.

Percy is the only person who doesn’t seem surprised by Nico’s presence. The two of them make eye contact and nod, almost as if they’re accomplices. A second later, Frank accidentally lets go of a jagged vine he’s holding back. It snaps across Percy’s arm, but he doesn’t even flinch. He just pushes it aside as if he’s irritated. Annabeth inspects it after he moves on, and although the branch is sharp enough to prick her finger, there was no injury to his person.

Once everyone is situated around the fire pit, except for Calypso, who disappears as the moment she and Percy make eye contact, Percy begins his story.

“Beckendorf and I were on Sciron’s ship for weeks,” he starts. “I’m not sure exactly how long, but it was at least a month. He was torturing us, trying to get us to tell him where the pearl was. We didn’t know, obviously, but we weren’t going to tell him what we did know. Finally he threatened to kill Beckendorf if I didn’t talk, so I had to. He found the pearl shortly after. Once he had it, he planned to execute us. Beckendorf had found some Greek fire on the ship and he planted it so that we could blow everything up. The plan was for us to get off the ship and then ignite it but…” Percy trails off, staring at the fire. “It didn’t work. We were caught. Beckendorf blew up the ship and I barely managed to escape.”

“And so did Sciron,” Frank murmurs under his breath. 

“I was injured pretty badly, so I spent a couple weeks healing at my father’s palace. I told him about Sciron and the pearl, and he gave me some information to help defeat him.”

“And?” Annabeth asks, hearing the finality in his voice but knowing there’s a lot more to the story.

“And then my father pointed me in the direction of my crew.” He avoids looking her in the eyes.

Annabeth isn’t satisfied. She points at Nico. “He told me that everyone who was on Sciron’s boat was in the Underworld. So either he lied, or you’re not telling us the whole truth.”

Nico and Percy’s eyes meet, and Percy frowns. “Yeah, so I went to the Underworld for a little while. Nico didn’t lie. But it’s not that important.”

Annabeth has the feeling that it’s incredibly important, but she holds her tongue. She's already let her irritation at the whole Calypso/Percy thing bleed through her tone enough, and obviously it’s not something he wants to talk about in front of everyone. She’ll just have to get him alone before she presses.

Frank sets his hand on Percy’s shoulder. He hasn’t been able to wipe his smile off his face since Percy came back. “We’re so glad you’re here. We thought you were dead. We had a funeral and Annabeth made a really nice speech and everything.”

Percy looks over at Annabeth for the first time since he’d first emerged from the sea. His eyes are even more distant and unreadable than before. When he realizes she’s staring back, he averts his gaze.

“Sciron came here last night.” Will cuts through the silence. He looks up at Percy with pained eyes. “That’s why everything is in ruins.”

“How did you drive him away?”

“Silena did.” Will nods at Leo. “She stole his dragon and dive-bombed the dirty pirate.”

Percy looks curiously at Leo. “You have a dragon?”

“Had,” Leo corrects, looking pained. “And apparently you knew him. Some mission with Silena and my half-brother.”

Percy suddenly looks really sad. “Silena. I meant to be the one to tell her, but…” He shakes his head. “Where is she?”

“She didn’t make it,” Frank says quietly.

Percy covers his face with his hands. Annabeth longs to reach out and place a hand on his arm, but she’s been getting strange vibes from him, so she doesn’t. 

When he drops his hands, she can see that his eyes are sparkling, but he holds the tears back. “The last thing Beckendorf said was her name,” he says. “I wanted her to know. I got back as fast as I could…”

“She knows,” Annabeth says gently. “She _knew_.”

Percy leans back, looking tired. He stares at the fire, and a tense silence falls over the group.

“You said your father gave you some information to help us fight Sciron,” Frank says after a few minutes. “What exactly did he say?”

“He gave me directions to a ship. I can raise it from the ocean floor, but we’ll need a mechanic.”

Leo sits up straight. “What kind of ship are we talking about?”

“Please don’t tell me it’s like the last ship your father gave you,” Will groans.

Frank shoots him a look. “Don’t talk bad about the _Pax_. We went through a lot with her.”

“And how much of that could we have avoided if we had a better ship?”

Percy ignores them and turns to Leo. “It’s a Greek trireme.”

Leo’s face pales. He digs around in his tool belt for a moment before pulling out a piece of paper with a sketch on it. He hands it over to Percy. “Does it look like that?”

Percy scans the paper. “Minus the dragon figurehead and once it gets fixed up, yeah. Where did you find this?”

Leo takes it back. “It’s a dream I’ve had since I was a kid. If you go to my workshop on the beach, you’ll find the dragon for the figurehead.” He stuffs the picture back in his belt. “You need a mechanic? I’ll be the best mechanic you’ve ever had.”

Another awkward silence falls over the group. Annabeth can tell that Leo realizes his mistake almost immediately, but he doesn’t know what to say. He opens his mouth but she shakes her head at him, and he quickly closes it. She knows that whatever he was about to say would have only made the situation worse.

Leo jumps up and brushes his pants off. “Well, I’m going to go and finish some stuff.” He walks away a little too quickly.

The other crew members stay to catch up with Percy. Annabeth begins to feel like she’s intruding, so she also leaves.

Her mind spins in overdrive as he tries to process the new information she’s learned. Percy had gone to his father’s palace and had spoken to his dad - had he found some closure, then? Come to an agreement with his family?

A line from the prophecy jumps out at her: _You must reunite with the one you have spurned._ That could definitely be in reference to his father. Percy had seemed pretty bitter sometimes when he talked about his dad.

But then there was the whole thing about the Underworld. If Percy hadn’t died, then why had he gone to the Underworld? What was he doing down there for weeks? And Nico had disappeared the night before Sciron’s attack - had he met Percy in the Underworld? Annabeth is positive he did. The way they looked at each other, as if they’re keeping a secret, was pretty definitive.

Then there was the vibe Percy was throwing off. He had greeted all his friends with a hug, but Annabeth had caught an underlying don’t-touch-me vibe. Not in a mean way, but rather more like he’s not comfortable with people touching him. He did mention he was wounded pretty badly in the explosion, but he doesn’t appear to have any scars or lasting effects. It was more than just the space issue, too; his entire face seemed off. Percy had always been mysterious at times, but now he’s just straight up unreadable. Maybe it has to do with his secret. He does seem like he’s trying to guard himself better.

Part of it is definitely due to his grief. Annabeth could clearly see the toll Beckendorf’s death had taken on him, not to mention Silena’s. She knows how Percy blames himself for everything; she can only imagine how hard he must be taking this.

The most painful part of it all, though, was his seeming indifference to her. When she’d run up to him at the beach and hugged him, he hadn’t held her tightly back. He’d just set his arm gently around her for a second. And when she’d stared into his eyes, he was unreadable. He’d ignored her completely throughout his entire story telling, and the only time he looked at her was when Frank had mentioned her funeral speech.

Annabeth wishes she could blame it on Calypso, but some of those things happened even before he realized where they were.

She knows she can’t be mad at him for acting like this. She was the one who ran away - both from him and to another man. He doesn’t know that she rejected Luke. He doesn’t know the painful decision she made. He doesn’t even know how she truly feels towards him. All he knows is that he put himself out there and she rejected him.

Now she has to live with the consequences of her decision.

Annabeth finds herself at the edge of Leo’s workshop. He’s at the forge, pounding away at a small disk of Celestial bronze with a hammer. Festus’ lifeless head and neck sit off to the side. He’s in the process of reattaching all the pieces he managed to recover.

She’s not sure how long she stands there until he stops, pulls his goggles down to his neck, and then turns to see her. He jumps a little, as if intimidated.

“Uh, hey,” he says.

“I’m not really sure what I’m doing here,” Annabeth admits. She wanders over to his desk, where she sees the infamous Archimedes spheres. She picks one up and begins spinning the rings. Leo takes a step forward.

“Just, uh, be careful with that,” he says, biting his lip and looking nervous. Annabeth resists the urge to smile.

She spins the symbols together in a sequence and the dome of the sphere pops up. Leo’s eyes grow wide and he crosses the distance.

“How did you do that?” he demands, reaching out for the sphere. She hands it over.

“I don’t know.”

“I’ve been trying to get that open since I found it!” Leo’s fingers run over the delicate gears inside. “Oh wow. There are so many possibilities…”

“Am I going crazy, or am I the only one who noticed how awkward that group chat was?” Annabeth asks, unable to stop herself. She’s driving herself insane by overthinking about Percy, and she wonders if she hasn’t half-imagined most of it. Heck, she isn’t sure that Percy’s arrival wasn’t a day dream.

“No, it was super awkward,” Leo agrees. “So, I only got half the story. Who is that guy? And how did he just appear? And who is this father of his?”

“Percy Jackson. He’s the captain of our ship - _was_ the captain. It got sunk by his half-brother, the guy who attacked us yesterday. He went missing and we thought he was dead for six weeks. It turns out he was with his dad, Poseidon.”

“That explains him emerging from the sea. I thought for a second he might be Aphrodite’s long lost brother. She’s the goddess that came from the sea foam, right?”

Annabeth shrugs. “I think so. That sounds right. I’m still pretty new to this world myself.”

“Really? ‘Cause everyone seems to be looking up to you a lot. You and the big Chinese guy.”

“Frank. He’s Percy’s first mate.”

Leo nods. “Makes sense. And what were you, then?”

She turns back to one of the other spheres on his table and traces her finger along one of the rings. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I did a little of everything. I helped Will in the infirmary and I helped Frank with navigation and Beckendorf with the mechanics. Percy once called me his advisor, and I went on every quest with him.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but he kinda seemed to be giving you the cold shoulder,” Leo says, fishing a small wrench out of his belt and making an adjustment on the sphere. It shoots out an electric shock and he jumps back in surprise, dropping it. Annabeth reaches out and catches it before it hits the ground.

“Yeah.” She sets it back on the table. So it wasn't all in her head. She should be relieved that she's not imagining things, but she just feels terrible. “Well, if you need any help, Beckendorf showed me how to do a few basic things and I’ve read some books. It’s not like I have anything else to do on this island.”

“Depending on what kind of shape Percy’s new ship is in, I may need a lot of help.” Leo glances back at Festus’ head. “I can’t wait to stick it to that pirate jerk for killing Festus.”

“I can think of a few people I wouldn’t mind avenging myself.” Annabeth turns and walks back down the beach, but after a few seconds she can’t stand the sight of the ocean. She heads back to the village, picking up some pieces of wood for the fire.

The crew members are spread out again, some eating and others playing cards or helping make temporary shelters. Will is playing fetch with Mrs. O’Leary while Nico leans against a tree and watches. Frank is making more arrows by the fire on her way.

The sun begins to set. Annabeth finds a pot of stew and a half-eaten loaf of bread left out and she grabs some to eat. By the time it’s dark, most people have settled down to sleep. Even Leo has apparently set down his hammer for the night, although there’s still a good chance he’s messing around with Festus’ control disk or his Archimedes spheres.

Annabeth walks to Calypso’s cave to grab a blanket and when she passes the gardens, she hears muted voices. From the glow of the strange silver flowers that only bloom at night, Annabeth can see Calypso and Percy walking together and talking. She clutches the blanket tightly in her hand before turning away.

Annabeth tosses and turns on the ground as she tries to sleep. She hates how everything reminds her of Percy - the sound of the waves against the shore, the salty sea breeze blowing across the island, even the stars in the sky are no longer neutral. Everything connects back to him.

When she finally falls asleep, her dreams are no better.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Percy can’t take any more surprises.

First he’d been nearly killed by his half-brother and then rescued by his father - his father, who he only met a couple times before in his life, usually for less than five minutes. Then he’d gone to the Underworld and met a ghost from his past. After that he’d been imprisoned by Hades, the Lord of the Underworld who hates him more than most demigods, for a month before being rescued by none other than Nico di Angelo. He’d finally returned to his friends, only to be greeted by Annabeth Chase, the girl who rejected him and he watched leave for what he thought would be forever. Almost immediately after he realized he was on Calypso’s island, the girl whose heart he had broken when he left her for what he thought would be forever. As if that wasn’t enough, he learned that Sciron had attacked his friends the night before and was only driven away after Silena, one of his oldest friends and his dead best friend’s girlfriend, sacrificed herself.

The blows just keep coming.

Percy knows he’s in a state of shock, but he’s gotten very good over the years at functioning even when his brain lags behind. He’s able to compartmentalize his grief, lock it away in drawers in his mind and focus on the present. It’s probably not a healthy way to cope, but it’s the only way to survive when the monsters keep coming.

He’s trying his best to pick up the pieces. His first priority is to finish his mission of retrieving the pearl and returning it to his dad. Some of the other things he can deal with on the way; last night, for instance, he had sought out Calypso. They’d spoken for a long time, clearing the air between them and finding closure. He’d been so young when he’d washed up on her shores years ago, and so naive; Calypso herself had even noticed how much he’d changed.

Other issues aren’t so easy. Mourning his lost friends is something he won’t have the privilege of doing until the threat of Sciron is behind him. He’d had a lot of alone time trapped in the Underworld, but he’d had other things on his mind then. Other grief to process.

Now he’s throwing himself back into his work. He’s standing on a small boat, Frank and Leo sitting on either side of him, while they float in the middle of the Aegean sea. He can sense the old Greek trireme exactly where his father had told him it would be.

Poseidon hadn’t given him exact instructions on how to raise the old shipwreck, but Percy knows the power lies inside of him. Now that he’s patched things up with his old man, his power is stronger than ever.

He holds out his arms and closes his eyes, concentrating on the frame of the ancient ship. He can feel it in his mind, exactly how he’d felt the _Pax_ come to life the moment he stepped aboard. He focuses on the water around it, and then he commands both the ship to rise and the ocean to assist.

Sweat breaks out on his forehead as he works. The small boat rocks slightly underneath him, but Frank and Leo keep it steady.

Percy hears the sound of something breaking through the surface, but he doesn’t doesn’t stop until he feels the water give way completely. Next to him, both Leo and Frank gasp.

“No way,” Frank whispers.

“I have so much work to do,” Leo says.

Percy opens his eyes. Listing heavily to port side but somehow afloat is the ship his father had promised - the ship from Leo’s drawing. The wood is rotting in many places and the sails are completely gone, the main mast snapped in half and the top deck almost nonexistent, but it’s there. Celestial bronze plates hold the disintegrating wood in place and shields line the railing, many of them mottled green and some missing.

“Behold, the _Argo_ ,” Percy says, sitting down heavily.

“Wait, the _Argo_? As in Jason and the Argonauts?” Leo asks.

“None other.”

“But that was thousands of years ago,” Frank protests. “How is it still…?”

“It was built with the help of Athena. The Celestial bronze held it together over the years, and some of the wood comes from the sacred forest of Dodona. After her travels, the _Argo_ was consecrated to my dad. He immortalized her in the stars, but the actual ship he kinda just left. But here it is, ready to sail again.”

“Your dad is officially the coolest,” Frank declares. “All my dad ever gave me was a spear and a book.”

“My dad gave me a dragon,” Leo says. Then he frowns.

“Let’s get her back to Ogygia,” Percy says, willing the waves to carry them back. “We have to be ready for the next time we face Sciron.”

-

When Percy returns with an old ship, Annabeth knows they’re in for a lot of work.

He carries it all the way up the beach. Calypso is far beyond being upset that her beach has turned into a workshop and instead helps. Between bringing everyone food and washing their clothes, she also spends a lot of time at her loom, weaving strong sails and singing magic into them. Leo draws up plans for how to fix the boat and divides the remaining crew members into teams to start on different projects. He then retreats to his workshop and continues patching Festus back together again.

Annabeth takes over supervising the work, using Leo’s blueprints as a guide. The books she’d read while making her way back from England had taught her much about engineering and architecture, not to mention that helping Beckendorf and being at sea had taught her how ships work. 

Frank is often sent away on missions to collect more Celestial bronze, and Will keeps Annabeth company by sitting on the beach by the dock, polishing the old Celestial bronze shields and returning them to their former glory - between treating splinters and burns and other work-related injuries.

Nico summons up a few skeletons to help with the manual labor. The nice thing about them is that when accidents happen and wooden planks fall on their heads, they’re already dead and don’t feel pain. They’re also scarily strong.

Annabeth remembers Frank telling her that time passes differently on Ogygia, and right now she’s hoping that it’s in their favor because it’s going to take them weeks, if not months, to get this ship in working condition. 

-

**Four Months Later**

Annabeth walks along the empty decks of the _Argo II_ (as they’ve rechristened the ship), a clipboard in her hand and Leo at her side. They’re making a last minute inspection. Tomorrow Leo will attach Festus as the figurehead and wire in his Archimedes spheres, the last steps on this massive project they’ve undertaken.

It’s been four months now since they started. Every day has been spent working from dawn until dusk. Annabeth is exhausted; she and Leo became the de facto leaders of the whole restoration. She can’t remember the last time she’s had a full night’s sleep, but walking through the finished corridors, the wood gleaming in the flickering light of their lantern, she can only think that it was all worth it.

This is the first thing Annabeth has built, and she feels so proud of it. She created this ship. Leo may have sketched out the initial designs, but she had tweaked them and been in charge of all the details. She’d supervised the work and made sure it was done correctly.

“I can’t believe it’s finished,” she finally says, her voice echoing along the dark corridor. “We rebuilt the _Argo_.”

“This is gonna be the biggest, baddest ship that ever sailed the Mediterranean,” Leo agrees, running his hand along the wall.

“I just hope there’s people to witness it.” Percy had been forwarding reports form Grover about Sciron’s activities. While they toiled away in the seclusion and safety of Calypso’s island, Sciron had become a menace to the outside world, causing hurricanes and earthquakes wherever he sailed. And his control over the pearl is only growing stronger.

“Hey, don’t get all brooding on me. Tonight’s a night for celebration.” Leo looks up at grins at her. “We did something amazing here. And tomorrow, we’re going to set off and do even more amazing things.”

Annabeth tries to let herself relax. Leo is right. She’s come so far since they first began. When she first joined the _Pax_ , she had become Percy’s advisor and a friend to his closest friends, but the rest of the crew hadn’t taken much notice of her. After her duel on Hylla and Reyna’s ship, the story had leaked out and the crew had been almost intimidated by her. When she first returned, some of them were still upset at her. Now, since she's taken the lead on the _Argo II_ project, she’s become a real leader who’s looked up to as much as Percy and Frank.

It feels good. Annabeth knows it’s her hubris peeking out, but she can’t deny the satisfaction she gets when people take her seriously. Growing up as a woman in a world where females were considered weak and inferior, Annabeth is still overwhelmed every time she’s addressed with respect from a man. She wishes her mother could see her now. She wishes her mother could see what Annabeth has done with the education and the intelligence that was passed down to her.

“You’re right,” she says, leaning her arm on Leo’s shoulder. “We make a pretty good team.”

Leo ascends the ladder to the deck and they stand in the moonlight, the sea breeze blowing over them. Annabeth feels unstoppable. She feels like challenging Sciron to try and fight her again. She’s not weak anymore. She’s finally grown into who she was meant to be.

“Let’s go,” Leo says, pulling her away. “I believe there’s a party with our name on it.”

-

The fire in the central hearth of Ogygia has been converted into a ten foot tall bonfire that roars and crackles. A few crew mates try to play music on make-shift instruments, and though it sounds terrible, no one seems to mind - except maybe Will, who’s standing on the edge of the group with a pained expression on his face and his hands covering his ears. Nico stands nearby, watching him with an amused expression.

Leo jumps in the middle and throws his hands up, the bonfire exploding another five feet. The men cheer and pat him on the back, congratulating him. Annabeth finds herself being escorted to the middle next to him.

“Let’s hear it for Annabeth and Leo!” someone shouts, holding up mugs. Another crew member shoves drinks in their hands and they raise them hesitantly, glancing at each other in surprise. Neither Annabeth nor Leo is used to being the center of attention.

Then, with a shrug, they tap their mugs together before drinking. Both of them immediately splutter, not expecting the bitter alcohol that washes down their throats. The men laugh and pound their backs a little roughly as they cough.

Everyone wants to congratulate Annabeth, it seems. Even though she’d been a strict and sometimes cold supervisor, no one seems to mind now that the work is done. They share stories and though Annabeth blushes at some of the things she’d said or done in her stress and exhaustion, everyone laughs and plays it off.

The alcohol takes the edge of her nerves, and the men’s praise grows her confidence. She begins to enjoy herself. She laughs loudly, sings along off-key with the men, and even grows used to the vile drink.

Calypso finds her in between conversations and takes her arm.

“You’ve really changed, Annabeth,” she says, smiling softly. “I’ve never seen you look so happy and confident. You were so lost when you first came here.”

“I’ve found my purpose.” 

Calypso raises an eyebrow. “Are you going to be a shipwright, then?”

Annabeth laughs. “Not quite. I don’t think I could ever leave these people. The _Argo II_ has become my home.”

“I’m happy for you.” Her eyes grow distant, and Annabeth remembers that Calypso is stuck here, unable to ever find another home. 

“Hey.” Annabeth reaches out and grabs her shoulder. “I know how hard it must be for you to live here forever, but you’ve handled it so well. Instead of being angry and bitter, you’ve created a beautiful home for castaways like us. We’re forever in your debt.”

Calypso’s smile turns pained. “For the first time in thousands of years, I haven’t felt alone. You all have given me the best gift of all. I shall cherish these moments for the rest of my life.”

“You deserve to enjoy this party as much as the rest of us. It would have taken us months longer to finish the _Argo II_ without your help.”

The other girl nods. “You’re right. I will.” She drifts off into the crowd, and Annabeth wishes there was a way they could do more for the girl who’s done so much for them.

Annabeth’s eyes scan across the crowd and stops on a pair of sea green ones. A pang goes through her. For all her success over the last four months, none of it has to do with Percy. She hasn’t spoken to him since he first came back. At first she tried to get him alone, to talk to him, but he seemed to be avoiding her. Finally she buried herself in her work, hoping that keeping herself busy would make her miss him less.

It didn’t work.

He looks away and disappears in the shadows. She tries to ignore it, tries to ignore him, but the high from being accepted and praised by the others dissipates. All the glory in the world is worth nothing when he won’t even look her in the eye.

Annabeth can’t lie - although she’d loved her work and found pride in it, a large part of her had also hoped that she could impress him. She would build him a ship so beautiful that he would fall in love with it - and with her.

She’ll always be proud of the _Argo II_. It’s a good, strong, beautiful ship that any captain would kill to have. Nothing can take away the pride she has when she looks at it. But she can’t celebrate anymore tonight. She feels as though the wind has been knocked right out of her.

She slips past the crowd and disappears.

-

Annabeth sits on the beach, digging her toes into the sand and looking out over the beach, where the _Argo II_ gleams like a thousand drachmas under the moonlight. The sounds of the party are muted behind her, but she’s already as far from the music and noise as possible on this tiny island.

She hears pattering footsteps behind her and Mrs. O’Leary trots over to her, walking in a circle before lying down beside her and resting her large black head in Annabeth’s lap.

Annabeth strokes her fingers through the dog’s fur. At least there’s somewhere here who appreciates her without her having to prove herself.

They sit for a while, enjoying the fresh night air. Annabeth has long since given up trying to ignore the sea and the stars. Even though everything reminds her of Percy, she has learned to push away the wave of sorrow deep down. She can’t live forever being haunted by memories. She can’t live forever being haunted by what-ifs.

Mrs. O’Leary’s ears suddenly pick up. A moment later, Annabeth hears someone crashing through the brush.

“Mrs O’Lear - ” Percy stops suddenly when he sees them on the beach. Annabeth bounces her leg, encouraging the dog to get up. Mrs. O’Leary stubbornly closes her eyes and ignores her.

“Sorry,” Annabeth says, not looking at him. “Guess she fell asleep.”

“It’s fine.” He hesitates, still standing a few feet behind her. Annabeth pretends to not notice, but she’s hyper aware of his every move. “I meant to tell you...the ship looks great. You did good.”

“Thanks.”

They sit in awkward silence for another moment.

“Annabeth, I - ” Percy steps forward and sits down on the sand, a few feet away from her. The space feels infinite, even though it’s the closest they’ve been in four months. “I’m sorry that I’ve been ignoring you.”

“I’m the one who should apologize.” Annabeth scratches the back of Mrs. O’Leary’s ears. “I left you when you needed me most.”

He shakes his head. “No, I made a mistake. I knew you were engaged and I still thought…” He trails off. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you everything. If you hadn’t helped me on Tortuga, I’d probably be dead by now, or still a prisoner of Ares. And if you hadn’t invited me onto your ship and introduced me to this world, I’d be married and probably a mom now. That isn’t a horrible thing, but with all the societal restrictions...I’d never have reached my full potential.” Annabeth motions to the _Argo II_. “This is what I was meant to do. To build great things.”

“Is that why you came back?” His voice is quiet. “Because you were unhappy?”

“Partly. After experiencing all this freedom, it was hard to adjust to being a woman of status again. But I could have been happy with Luke. I loved him. I could have adapted and stayed, and I wouldn’t have been miserable forever.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No,” Annabeth agrees. “I couldn’t stay because we didn’t have closure.”

Percy is silent. She continues.

“I worried about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about if something terrible had happened. There was a storm one night, and I was sure that it meant you had died. I felt responsible. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was the betrayal from the prophecy that meant the end of everything. I had to come back to be sure. And when I found out you were dead - ” She balls up her fist. “I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I burned all my bridges to come back, only to find that you were gone.”

“You weren’t the betrayal from the prophecy.” Percy traces his finger through the sand. He looks almost nervous. “So you - you came back for me?”

“Of course, Seaweed Brain.”

She looks over and sees that he’s smiling a little. She hasn’t seen him smile since before he was captured by Sciron.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he finally says, looking over at her. “I missed having my Wise Girl around.”

“Just wait until I start giving you orders, too.”

“Trust me, I can’t wait.” He stands, and this time Mrs. O’Leary gets up, shaking the sand off her fur. “Goodnight, Annabeth.”

“Goodnight, Percy.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence

**Chapter 24**

Annabeth can’t wipe the smile off her face as the wind blows through her hair, sea spray splashing up underneath the bow of the ship as they cruise through the Aegean sea. She glances back to see Frank smiling just as widely. Even Percy looks relieved to finally be at sea again.

Leo is a blur, running back and forth across the deck and messing with his controls. At the very front of the ship, Festus, his head and neck repaired and reactivated, opens his jaws and breathes out a burst of flames.

As it turns out, only a few weeks had passed in the world during the four months they’d been on Ogygia. Although Annabeth isn’t one to give up on a problem, she has to admit defeat when it comes to trying to figure out how Ogygia’s magic works.

Percy had a dream last night through his empathy link with Grover (another kind of magic that Annabeth doesn’t understand) where the satyr told him about Sciron’s latest target. Apparently the entire Gulf of Sidra, along the coast of Northern Africa, had been laid to waste by a particularly powerful hurricane last night. 

Annabeth prays that the _Argo II_ holds up. She prays that the magic embedded into the old wood and Celestial Bronze frame keeps them together in the face of Sciron’s might. She’d seen first-hand how it wrecked Calypso’s island; she doesn’t want to know what it could do to them if they get caught in the middle of it.

Annabeth suddenly remembers something. She ducks down into her cabin (Leo had replaced the space where the oarsmen used to be with private cabins) and retrieves Riptide, still in its sheath from when Luke had returned it to her. She hides it behind her back as she approaches Percy.

“I know this probably won’t do you any good against Sciron,” she begins, “but I thought you might like to have it back.”

She holds it out between them. Percy stares at it in wonder, his fingers levitating above it as if he’s worried it’s going to disappear. Then he grabs it and unsheathes the sword, swinging it around a bit. Annabeth takes a step back.

He looks back at her, his eyes filled with gratitude. “Thank you so much. I thought I would never see it again.” He slips it back in the sheath and attaches it to his belt. “It’s the only sword that ever felt truly balanced to me. Losing it was like losing my arm.”

“It was the least I could do.” Annabeth turns back to the sea speeding past them. “How long do you think it will take us to reach Sciron?”

“Not long. A couple days, maybe.” Percy runs his hand along one of the circular shields lining the railing. “I really hope this ship survives. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. It runs like a dream.”

She decides to take that as a compliment. “Yeah, well, I don’t think I have the energy to build another ship any time soon, so please try to keep it in one piece.”

Leo runs right behind them, chasing an Archimedes sphere that zips around the deck. He leaps in the air and wraps his arms around it, only to crash along the deck. A few of the sailors suppress smirks as he sprawls out on the floor.

“That kid certainly has the energy,” Percy remarks. “Where did you find him, again?”

“He found us. Crashed his dragon right onto Ogygia. You should have seen Calypso. She went absolutely feral. She stomped around, yelling at him and waving her arms.”

Percy grins. “Really? I can’t picture that. She always seems so calm and collected.”

Annabeth’s smile fades as she remembers seeing Calypso and Percy together in the garden the night he returned, walking closely and talking. An overwhelming desire to know what they were talking about washes over her.

“It must have been so strange for you,” she says slowly. “Being back on Ogygia after all that happened between you guys.”

He looks over at her in alarm. “What?”

“The others told me about you and Calypso. About her curse and how you were stranded there for a few weeks. And she told me about you, about how she loved you more than anyone else the gods sent.”

Percy grips the railing with his hands and looks away. Annabeth ignores the pain in her chest. 

“I didn’t love Calypso,” he says. “She’s beautiful, yeah, and she took care of me when I was injured and she offered me an escape from a painful future. But that’s not love.”

“She said you left because you were worried about your friends.”

“I couldn’t abandon them. They were counting on me. As much as I’ve thought about how easier my life would have been if I had accepted her offer then, it’s nothing compared to how much I would have thought about my friends. I wouldn’t have rested until I knew their fates - but if I knew their fates, then I would have regretted my choice forever. I would have just made her miserable. She deserves someone better than me.”

“Just because the person who would be most compatible with her isn’t you doesn’t mean you’re worth any less than them.”

Percy doesn’t say anything. Annabeth remembers part of her conversation with Calypso about Percy. _“Percy wasn’t an easy person to love,”_ she had said. _“He always has this sense of duty. Out of all the heroes that came to my island, none were as selfless and insecure as him.”_

Annabeth can see that even now, in the tension in his shoulders and his focused gaze ahead. And she can see the insecure part of him; the part of him that can’t accept her telling him that he’s worth just as much as anyone else. More, even.

“I saw you and Calypso talking on Ogygia,” Annabeth admits. “Was that what you were talking about?”

Percy nods. “And apologizing. I should have made sure the gods actually followed through on their promise. I should have held them responsible. I should have - ”

Annabeth reaches over and presses her hand against his mouth. “Shut up. It’s not your fault. It’s the gods’ fault. And after we take down Sciron and save the world, you can march back to Olympus and make them fix it.”

He looks at her with an amused expression on his face. “You don’t just march up to Olympus,” he says.

“Why not?” Annabeth raises her eyebrow. “What are they going to do? Zap Poseidon’s favorite son?”

“You joke about that, but Zeus has almost zapped me before.” Percy turns back to the sea. “I’m tired of trying to understand the gods, or trying to change them. If I want something, I’m just going to do it myself.”

He sounds so much more confident than before. Annabeth watches him for a moment.

“You patched things up with your dad, didn’t you?” she asks.

“Yeah.” For the first time since she met him, he doesn’t completely close up or seem awkward about talking about his father. “When I was imprisoned on Sciron’s ship, I was in a pretty dark place. I was really mad at the gods, and at my father especially. Even Beckendorf couldn’t talk me out of it. But my dad saved me when I needed him.”

“Was it weird, talking with your dad about defeating your half-brother?”

“My dad was actually pretty cool about it. He’s admitted before that not all his children represent him the way he wishes.”

“I have a theory about your dad,” Annabeth says.

“What’s that?”

“When he’s in a stormy mood, his children tend to be more violent and cruel - like Sciron. When he’s in a good mood, his children are kind and gentle.”

“What kind of mood do you think he was in for me?”

“I think he was in transition from a bad mood to a good one.”

Percy doesn’t respond. He looks like he’s turning her words over in his mind. Annabeth takes the opportunity to press deeper.

“So what were you doing in the Underworld for so long?”

He frowns slightly. “I got caught by Hades. He and I have a long history. He threw me in a cell for four weeks.”

“What were you doing in the Underworld in the first place?”

Percy turns away, and she knows she won’t get much more out of him right now. “I had to see someone,” he says. He pushes away from the railing. “I’m going to check on the crew.”

Annabeth also leaves the side of the ship, heading down to the infirmary on the second deck to find Will. The new infirmary is much bigger than the older one, and Will is happily reorganizing all his tools and medicines.

“Hey, Annabeth,” he says when he sees her. “Have you seen my new space? It’s awesome!”

“I designed it,” she answers, smiling wryly. “Glad you like it.” She hops up on one of the cots and watches him for a moment. “I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Have you talked to Nico since he returned?”

“Of course. He’s practically a zombie. He never admits when he pushes himself too far, so I’ve had some close saves.”

“Did he ever talk about where he went?”

Will looks up, his face guarded. “Why?”

“I have a theory. Was he in the Underworld?”

Will hesitates before nodding. “Yeah, he mentioned going to see his father. What’s your theory?”

Annabeth inhales deeply. It’s all starting to make sense. The only thing she doesn’t understand is why Percy was in the Underworld. She doesn’t think he was lying to her about seeing someone, but she doesn’t understand who he saw and for what purpose. She has the feeling it was more than just a casual social visit.

“I’ll tell you when I know for sure,” she promises, hopping off the cot. “Thanks for your help.”

-

Sunset on the deck of the _Argo II_ is as beautiful as any sunset on Ogygia. Annabeth sits with her back to a barrel and watches as the sun slowly slides down the horizon, leaving streaks of orange and red in its wake.

Behind her, she can hear Leo mumbling to himself and tinkering with his Archimedes spheres. He’s still trying to finish some designs he had brainstormed on the island. Annabeth hopes that whatever they are, they pack a big punch. They’re going to need all the firepower they can get if they’re going to defeat Sciron.

Most of the other sailors are down belowdecks, where they’re having a card and dice tournament. There’s a lot of gambling involved and a lot of golden Drachmas and Celestial Bronze weapons at stake. As much as Annabeth likes the hive of activity on the ship, she also enjoys quieter moments like now.

She turns back to the book in her hand. It’s an architecture book. Since renovating the _Argo_ with Leo, she's realized how many gaps there are in her knowledge. If this is something she wants to seriously consider doing then she needs to catch up.

Still, she finds it hard to concentrate when she hears footsteps padding across the deck towards her.

Percy takes a seat a few feet away from her. He always keeps his distance these days. She isn’t sure if it’s because of her rejection or because of the new detached aura that surrounds him.

“It’s funny,” he says, staring out at the sunset.

Annabeth turns to him.

“When the sky looks like it’s on fire, we love it and call it beautiful. But if the sky was actually on fire, people wouldn’t stop to enjoy the view.”

“I like to think it’s because people aren’t inherently stupid.”

“Yeah.” Percy smiles a little. Then he reaches into his pocket. “I brought you something. As a thank you for returning Riptide.”

“I was just giving back what already belonged to you,” Annabeth says, but she accepts the little drawstring bag he hands her. She opens it and pulls out a red coral pendant on a leather string.

“It’s from my father’s palace,” Percy says, reaching up and scratching his neck. Annabeth holds it up to the light and examines it, pretending she doesn’t notice how nervous he looks.

“It’s beautiful,” she finally says. “Though I imagine it has nothing on your father’s palace.”

“Here.” 

Annabeth hands him the pendant and turns around, sweeping the hair off her neck. He secures the clasp, being careful not to touch her. She feels disappointed as she drops her hair and turns back around.

“Thank you, Percy.” Their eyes meet for a moment and she tries to share her gratitude through the look. After a few seconds, he looks away.

“You never told us what the information was that your father gave you,” Annabeth says. “How do you plan on defeating Sciron?”

“I’m going to fight him.”

“You’re bringing a sword to a gunfight, Percy. He’ll unload an entire round into you before you take a step with those pistols of his. That’s not to mention his power of the seas with the pearl.”

“I have a plan,” Percy insists. “I may not be able to counteract the pearl’s power, but it doesn’t take away my own power. My control over water is in my blood. It’s part of who I am.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a plan.”

“Sciron has an army,” Percy continues, ignoring her comment. “Not a large one, but still an army. Sea monsters, a handful of sailors, and himself. I’ll go after Sciron. I need you and Frank to lead the attack against the army, buy me enough time to defeat him and take the pearl.”

“You don’t have to be a one-man army, Percy. You shouldn’t fight him alone.”

“Anyone else would be a liability. As strong as our powers are, anyone caught in the middle would be torn apart.”

He has a point, but Annabeth still isn’t confident in his strategy. Unless he knows something she doesn’t…

“There’s a sailor’s superstition about red sunsets,” Percy says, breaking the tension. “A red sky at night is supposed to signal good weather for the next day.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in sailor superstitions.”

He shrugs. “I’d like to believe this one.”

Annabeth would like to believe it, too. Because deep down, she has a feeling that something very bad is going to happen tomorrow.

-

In her dreams that night, Annabeth travels back in time to Ancient Greece. She’s standing in the middle of an army on a beach at night facing a city with imposing walls before her. A horn is blown, and the army surges forward.

The gates open up for them, men in similar armor heaving the wheels and waving them forward. How they got into the city, Annabeth isn’t sure. The soldiers rush into houses and slit the people’s throats in their sleep. It’s a few minutes before anyone wakes up in time to sound an alarm, and by then hundreds are dead already as the army begins pouring into the city.

A few hastily dressed and armored soldiers from the city rush out to face them, but they’re crushed swiftly. The city stands no chance.

As the soldiers kill, they also burn. Annabeth stands in the middle of the chaos, wondering why she’s here.

One soldier in particular stands out. He’s handsome, with dark, curly hair. Unlike the other soldiers, he doesn’t wear any armor. He cuts through the enemy soldiers easily, swinging his sword this way and back.

An archer from a distance fires straight at him. Annabeth watches in amazement as the soldier stares the archer in the eyes as the arrow comes sailing towards him. He doesn’t move, and the arrow flies straight into his chest. 

Instead of impaling him, the arrow glances off. The soldier’s expression doesn’t change, but he wades right back into battle. Annabeth begins to notice as other soldier’s swords and spears and arrows also glance off his skin. Nothing is able to hurt him. He’s invincible.

He fights his way into the palace, leaving the rest of his army behind. He cuts through the royal guard quickly, though he pays no attention to the fleeing ladies of the court. 

In the courtyard, a finely dressed man with a silver crown upon his head faces him, an arrow knocked in his bow and drawn tight. The warrior stares at him, his face expressionless.

“You killed my brother,” the prince says. “You have destroyed my city and scattered my family. By the power of Apollo, your days will end here.”

The soldier raises his sword and charges. The prince lowers his bow at the last minute and releases. The arrow flies down and strikes the soldier’s heel. Instead of glancing off, it sinks straight through. He stumbles and falls at the prince’s feet, his sword clattering out of his hand.

A wound like that is painful, but not typically deadly. But even as Annabeth watches, the unstoppable warrior bleeds out. The prince takes his sword and flees as the sounds of fighting grow nearer.

She wakes up with a jolt, trying to shake the image of the horrible war out of her head. She knows that story. It’s the story of the Trojan War. The prince was Paris of Troy and the soldier was Achilles.

That happened thousands of years ago, though. Why is Annabeth dreaming of it tonight?

She tries to settle back into her hammock, but for once the rocking of the waves doesn’t comfort her. It just reminds her of the enemy they have to face. And although she doesn’t understand why, she can’t get the sight of Achilles’ body out of her mind.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence

**Chapter 25**

“What do you know about the legend of Achilles?” Annabeth asks Will the next day.

“He was one of the greatest mortal heroes ever,” he replies. “He famously fought Prince Hector of Troy and defeated him in front of the city before the whole Trojan horse trick. They sacked the city and he was killed by Hector’s younger brother Paris.”

“But he was invincible, right?”

“Almost. He had one weakness.”

“His heel. But how did he get that invincibility if he was mortal?”

“The story says that his mother dipped him in the River Styx when he was a baby. She held onto his heel, which was the only part of his body that remained vulnerable.”

“Where is the River Styx?”

“It’s in the Underworld.”

Annabeth feels the blood drain out of her face. She stumbles back a few steps. Will frowns at her.

“Are you okay? You look sick.” He takes a step forward. “Here, let me - ”

“I’m fine,” she says, pushing his hand away. “I just - ” She stops short, not able to make up an excuse.

Will doesn’t look convinced. “Why are you asking about this?”

She waves him off, slowly recovering. “I’m just trying to learn more Greek mythology, that’s all. Thanks for your help.”

She exits the infirmary, heading through the corridors of the second level, but Will follows her.

“You were asking about where Nico went yesterday,” he accuses. “You said you had a theory. You promised you’d tell me when you were sure.”

Annabeth halts and turns to face him. She did promise him, and she knows he won’t leave her alone until she fesses up.

“Percy was trapped in the Underworld for four weeks. Nico disappeared the day before Sciron attacked and he returned the same day Percy did. Percy told me he went to see someone in the Underworld.”

“So? Nico helped Percy get back out.”

“But that’s not all he did.” Annabeth glances around to make sure no one’s listening. “Will, you have to promise to keep this a secret.”

He looks at her strangely. “Okay. I promise.”

“Swear it on the River Styx.”

“I swear it on the River Styx.” Thunder rumbles overhead. Annabeth ignores it.

“The spirit Percy went to see was Achilles. Percy knew he couldn’t defeat Sciron without help, so he bathed himself in the River Styx to gain invulnerability. Nico helped him.”

Will stares at her with wide eyes. Around them the boat rocks, the seas getting choppy, but they both ignore it.

“How sure are you?” he asks.

“I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure.”

“So what do we do? Protect his heel?”

Annabeth has another theory about that. “Actually, I’m not sure - ”

The alarm suddenly wails. Sailors begin rushing past them and shouting to each other. Annabeth sees a lot of weapons and a few jars of Greek fire.

“I better go,” she says, pushing past Will and heading for the ladder to the top deck.

Annabeth pokes her head up and is instantly assailed by heavy winds and rain. The _Argo II_ pitches from side to side. Festus shakes his neck and roars, spitting out flames ahead. The sky is dark, heavy clouds surrounding them.

Percy stands at the front of the ship, his hands out and his face scrunched up in concentration.

Annabeth grabs Frank’s arm as he runs by. “What’s going on?” she yells over the storm.

“We’re getting close to Sciron!” Frank replies. “Get ready for battle!”

A large wave rises up and washes over the deck. Leo yells in frustration and begins shouting orders to passing sailors.

Annabeth grabs the mast as another large wave buffers the ship to the side. One sailor pitches over the railing, but a stream of water controlled by Percy brings him back over.

In the distance, Annabeth can see Sciron’s dark ship sailing towards them through the storm. Above his black sails whip his flags, the skeletal mermaid and one with a trident on it. Annabeth wonders how Sciron can still be deluded enough to think that Poseidon’s on his side.

He’s definitely about to get the shock of his life.

The closer his ship gets, the worse the storm around them becomes. Most of Percy’s crew is crawling along the deck, the winds strong enough to whip a grown man away. Only Percy remains standing as he faces his half-brother.

Sciron’s ship pulls up next to theirs. Annabeth can see dozens, even hundreds maybe, of monsters standing on the deck across from them. She sees telkhines and half-man half-dolphin creatures and evil naiads and nereids. There are a few pirates thrown in between the monsters, glaring at them and cocking pistols or holding swords. They’re all waiting impatiently for the battle to start.

Sciron himself stands at the front of the army. He’s holding the pearl in one hand. When he sees Percy, he sneers.

“So you did survive. Ran away to hide behind daddy?”

Percy’s fist clenches at his side. “News flash, brother,” he calls out. “You’re not dad’s favorite anymore. Actually, you never were.”

“That’s fine with me,” Sciron spits. “With the pearl, I’m more powerful than him anyways. After I beat you and your pathetic excuse for a crew, I’ll take over the oceans. And when the oceans are under my control, I’ll take his throne on Olympus.”

“Something tells me the other gods won’t agree to that.” Percy unsheathes Riptide. “But it won’t be an issue, because you won’t win.”

He summons up a wave to carry him over to Sciron. Sciron whips out his pistols and fires off multiple rounds. All the bullets glance off of Percy’s skin. He continues sailing through the air towards the pirate, and Sciron’s eyes narrow. He drops his pistols right before Percy barrels into him. The two fly over the deck of his ship and crash into the choppy waves on the other side.

The monsters take that as their cue to attack. The storm around the ships lessens as Sciron focuses his power on his fight with Percy, and the _Argo II_ ’s crew jumps to their feet and meets the challenge. Fighting breaks out on the deck of the _Argo II_ as the monsters surge forward.

Leo spins a dial on one of his Archimedes spheres and all of them light up and spin, electricity shooting out and zapping monsters into dust. He also lifts his palms and shoots fire at any that come too close. Another dial on the Archimedes spheres controls the canons and some of his other weapons.

Frank uses his bow and arrows at first, but when the monsters get too close he drops them and pulls out his spear. No monster is able to get within three feet of him as he expertly whirls it around, pushing them back and finding chinks in their armor.

Nico summons up the skeletons of dead sailors from the shipwrecks below them. They emerge from the sea and climb up the side of the ship, joining in the fray with rusted antique weapons. He also pulls out his black sword and stabs any monsters that venture in his vicinity.

Annabeth’s fighting skills are really put to the test. She has the disadvantage of not having a lot of range, but she can also weave between monsters, slicing at them and retreating again. She uses all the skills that Percy and Luke taught her as she fights for her life.

The real battle is the one above the surface of the water, though. Percy and Sciron are fighting with swords, floating above the ocean on streams of water. Sciron stabs and slashes at Percy, but even the hits that get through his defenses are useless against Percy’s impenetrable skin. 

Annabeth fights her way through the monster horde to Frank. “We need to organize the crew!” she shouts over the din of battle. “Otherwise we’ll all die!”

Frank nods. He speeds up and decimates the monsters around him before cupping his hands over his mouth. “Form a line!” he bellows, his voice carrying.

The crew members adjust their fighting, working their way from random spots across the deck to each other. A loose line begins to form on the main deck. Frank and Annabeth jump down from the top deck and join them.

“Get the shields,” Frank instructs Annabeth. “And find Will.”

Will is huddled over a patient, but even as she reaches him he rocks back on his heels, a crushed look on his face. Annabeth rushes past him and stabs a monster that’s about to take a bite out of him.

“Will!” She shakes his shoulder. “I need your help!”

She pulls him back behind the rough line. “We need to take the shields from the sides and give them to the fighters! Then they can push back the monsters!”

She and Will leap into action, ripping the Celestial Bronze shields from the railing and waiting for opportunities to give them to the crew. The rough line begins to harden up and they start pushing the monsters back, leaving less room on the deck of the _Argo II_ for more monsters to come over. Frank stands behind the line and shouts orders in between using his bow to shoot down the few flying monsters.

Nico stumbles back behind the line, looking even pastier than normal. Will catches him as he collapses.

“He can’t summon any more skeletons,” Will says as he digs out a canteen of nectar and forces the mouth between Nico’s white lips. 

“Keep watch over him. He’s too powerful to lose.” Annabeth tightens her grip on her knife. “I’m going back in.”

“Be careful,” Will says, but she’s already gone.

Leo is still running around in a panic. Festus is blow-torching as many monsters as he can, but they’re starting to crawl over his neck. Leo sends a small fleet of Archimedes spheres to electrocute them while he attempts to keep the ship stabilized among the chaos.

Out on the ocean, Percy has worn Sciron out. He ducks a slow swing and smashes the hilt of his blade into Sciron’s forehead. The pirate collapses into the water. Percy follows him, but he’s gone, along with the pearl. Percy blasts back up to the surface, his frustration pouring over. He shoots up and lands on the deck of the _Argo II_ and starts helping his friends out.

His crew has formed a defensive line under Frank’s control and have just pushed away the tide of monsters when a loud roar breaks through the diminishing storm. Everyone turns around to see a massive sea turtle breaking the surface, it’s sharp mouth headed straight for the _Argo II_. Percy curses under his breath and leaps off the ship, his sword raised as he meets the large monster in battle.

The monsters take advantage of the _Argo II_ crew’s surprise and hit them hard with another wave, pushing back the defensive line all the way to the railings. It splits apart and leaves everyone fending for themselves in another chaotic skirmish. Only this time, everyone is already tired while the monsters are fresh and chomping at the bit for tasty demigod flesh.

Annabeth peeks at Percy’s battle between monsters. He’s flying around the turtle using a jet stream of water, stabbing at it but not doing too much damage on the whole. Mostly he’s just irritating it and keeping it from destroying the _Argo II_.

He eventually draws it around to the front of the ship, taunting it and bringing it closer to Festus. When it’s in range he jumps out of the way and Festus opens his jaws with a whirl of gears, sending a concentrated line of flames straight at the turtle’s face. The sea turtle’s body disintegrates, leaving behind a massive shell that floats on the waves.

Percy returns to the ship. Annabeth makes her way over to him until they’re fighting back to back. It feels natural to be fighting with him after all their practice skirmishes. They knew each other and their fighting styles so well that they’re like one well-oiled machine.

Annabeth slices through a telkhine only to face a pirate. She dislikes fighting humans, but when they’re trying to kill her, she has no qualms about destroying them. It’s like the pirate she fought on Reyna and Hylla’s ship. He would have killed her, so she has to kill him first.

The pirate stabs around her, and Annabeth realizes after a moment that he’s just playing with her. He draws her out from around Percy, leaving his back wide open. Annabeth gets a bad feeling in her gut, and without thinking twice backs up to him again, even though it leaves her wide open to attack by the pirate.

There’s a loud crack of a pistol and Annabeth feels a sharp pain in her side. A cry escapes her lips as she drops her knife and presses her hand to her side, feeling warm blood rush up and spill out. She looks up in shock, seeing Sciron still pointing the end of his pistol at Percy’s back in the exact spot where she had just moved to.

Percy whirls around, taking in the situation in seconds. Annabeth stumbles back and collapses, curling up on the deck as the pain consumes her. She watches through a haze as Percy stands over her and starts swinging his sword wildly.

“Get back!” he screams. “Nobody touches her!”

Streams of water slide up the side of the ship and surround him, spinning until he’s surrounded by his own personal hurricane. He begins moving around the deck, slicing and stabbing and vaporizing monsters left and right. As the hurricane winds around him blow stronger, even Sciron takes the hint and jumps off the deck of the _Argo II_ , heading back for his own ship.

Once all the monsters aboard the _Argo II_ have been destroyed, Percy stands at the railing and raises his arms. A huge wave rises up between the two ships, winds from his personal hurricane blowing them apart. Within minutes they’re so far away from each other that the sky clears up again and the waves quiet down.

Annabeth barely notices, though. She feels hands rolling her over and hears Will’s soothing voice, but she doesn’t understand what he’s saying. She feels the mouth of a canteen against her lips and tastes the magical nectar washing down her throat. She remembers when he told her that more than a mouthful could incinerate a mortal.

As the pain from her side continues to consume her, she wonders if she’s dying from a bullet wound or from drinking too much nectar. She definitely feels like she’s on fire.

Her vision blurs out completely until she slips into the darkness.

-

“Put her down gently.”

Percy sets Annabeth’s body down on one of the cots in the infirmary. Around him, other crew members are escorting other injured men into the room, but right now Percy has his eyes for only one patient.

Annabeth stirs as Will pushes up her shirt and begins cleaning out the area around the wound. He grimaces before turning and grabbing his bag.

“I’m going to have to dig the bullet out,” he says, fixing his sky blue eyes on Percy.

Percy nods. “Okay.”

Annabeth reaches out, her eyes still half-closed, and grasps weakly at Percy’s arm. It takes him a moment to realize that she’s searching for his hand. He intertwines his fingers with hers.

“Annabeth,” he says, leaning down. “Can you hear me?”

“Pretty stupid of me, huh?” she whispers back, her breathing labored. “Taking a bullet for an invincible man.”

Percy can’t tell her now, but what she did was the opposite of stupid. He doesn’t know if it was on purpose or on accident, but if she hadn’t taken that bullet, it would have hit his Achilles spot. A small patch on his back that he should have covered with armor - not that his armor would have stopped a Celestial Bronze bullet.

_How did you know?_ he wants to ask, but there will be time for that later.

Will holds up a knife, the canteen of nectar next to him. “Here goes,” he warns. Annabeth clenches her eyes shut and tightens her grip on his hand. Percy has to look away as Will cuts the bullet out of her skin. Seeing her injured is bad enough.

She doesn’t make a sound, although he nearly whimpers at how tightly she’s gripping his hand. He’ll be lucky if he can use it to fight again. When did she become so strong?

Suddenly he’s angry at himself about all the time they missed together. He’d been so hurt by her rejection that he’d kept her at a distance, even after she came back from England alone for him. Now he wishes he could go back in time and do it all over again. He wouldn’t push her away. He would enjoy every second that he had with her, because who knows when it could be their last?

Will digs the bullet out. He drops it in a metal tray with a sharp ping and then washes out the wound with nectar. He roots for his bag for a silvery paste, which he smears on the wound as he mutters in Ancient Greek. Will rarely resorts to using magical healing, so Percy knows her injury is serious - or maybe Will just cares about her enough to ensure that she survives. 

After he bandages it up, he looks pale and shaken, more like Nico than himself. He staggers grabbing the side of the cot for support.

“That should do it,” he says. “She should make it.”

If it were anyone else, Percy would have hounded them for more information. _Should?_ he’d ask. _Is that the best you can do?_ But he knows Will, and there’s no one else he trusts more.

Annabeth’s eyes have drifted closed again. Percy glances around the infirmary, seeing for the first time how many patients Will has ahead of it.

“Can she be moved?” he asks. “I’ll take her somewhere more private. Then you’ll have the cot, as well.”

“As long as you’re careful.” Will places his hand on her forehead one last time, frowning slightly, before turning around and moving on to his next patient.

Percy lifts her up again and takes her up to his cabin. It’s the only other cabin on the ship with an actual bed instead of a hammock. He lays her down gently and drapes a blanket over her, hiding the injury. If it weren’t for the beads of sweat on her forehead, he could pretend she was just sleeping.

Her eyes blink open again. Percy instantly kneels down by her side. “Annabeth? Do you need something? Water?”

She nods, and he grabs a canteen and helps her sit up just enough to drink from it. Then she collapses back down against the pillow, the small action having drained her energy.

Percy reaches out and brushes a stray piece of hair off her forehead. He wouldn’t be so confident if she hadn’t almost died today, but he’s sick of walking on his tiptoes around her. Either she’s changed her mind about being with him since she broke off her engagement or not; he’s not going to dance around the subject forever. She already knows how he feels about her, anyway.

“Why did you take that bullet for me?” he asks, leaving his hand around her face.

“You would have done the same for me,” she responds, focusing her eyes on his. He can see how much effort it’s taking her, and he knows he needs to let her rest, but he can’t wait to talk to her. He has to know.

“How did you know?” he asks, lowering his voice.

“I had a dream,” she replies. “About Achilles. And I know you were down in the Underworld…”

Percy laughs lightly and ducks his head. “I could never keep anything a secret from you, Wise Girl.” His smile fades. “But how did you know I was in danger?”

“I had a feeling.” She reaches her hand out and touches his face. “I couldn’t have another funeral for you. I already used up my good speech.”

“So I heard. Are you ever going to tell me what you said?”

A ghost of a smile appears on her face. “Maybe if we survive Sciron.”

Percy moves his hand back and takes the one she has stretched out. He squeezes it gently. “Get some rest. I need my smartest advisor if I have any hope of doing that.”

Her eyes close and she drifts off. Percy sits there holding her hand for a while. When he finally leaves, he heads back out on deck.

Frank and Leo are working together to keep the ship sailing. There was substantial damage that will have to be repaired before they do any more serious sailing, but Percy’s first priority is to defeat Sciron. If they can’t stop him, there won’t be any serious sailing in the future. In fact, there won’t be a future at all for them.

Both guys turn as soon as he steps out.

“Percy!” Frank jogs over. “How is everyone? I haven’t been down to the infirmary, but I know there were a lot of guys down there.”

Percy nods. “Will is going to need a raise. And maybe an assistant, if we survive this.”

“What about Annabeth?” Leo asks.

“Will said she’d survive.” Percy exhales deeply. It’s been a stressful day for him as well. If his nerves weren’t so shot, he’d try to sleep, but right now he knows he’ll just have nightmares or worse, he’ll lie awake and overthink everything.

Frank sets his hand on his shoulder. “And how are you doing?”

“Honestly?” Percy rubs his eyes. “Not well. More than half my crew is seriously injured or dead. My half-brother escaped and is probably gathering even more forces as we speak. My ship itself is badly damaged.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Frank says, his eyes softening. “Percy, let us help you. Let us help take on Sciron.”

“You can’t. He’s too dangerous.” Percy paces the deck, too agitated to stand still. “This is my battle. It’s my brother, and it’s my element.”

“You don’t have to be the hero,” Frank insists. “Let us share the burden.”

Percy takes a deep breath. “Okay. If you want to help, can you check on the men in the infirmary for me? And prepare the ones who died for their funeral? I’m not sure how far away I pushed our ship from Sciron’s, so we need to be ready for another fight any day.” He turns to Leo. “How much of the ship can you repair without stopping at a port?”

Leo glances around and counts things off on his fingers. “Quite a bit. I may have to salvage some Celestial Bronze weapons to melt down, though.”

“Take them from the fallen.” Percy pauses and looks around for another moment. Sudden exhaustion hits him, and he realizes how tired he is. Maybe even tired enough to sleep. He has to rest, even if he doesn’t want to. “I’m going to try to sleep. Wake me up if you need anything.”

Percy isn’t confident about many things, but at least he knows the _Argo II_ and her crew are in good hands.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence

**Chapter 26**

Annabeth walks around the deck of the _Argo II_ , trying not to grimace with pain. It’s been three days since their fight with Sciron, and she’s sick of lying in bed while every second brings them closer to the inevitable showdown. Sciron won’t be surprised by Percy this time; he’ll be ready.

She can sense Percy, Frank, and Will watching her from the top deck, which is why she puts on such a show of strength. She refuses to be sidelined during the last battle. It’s a stupid idea, anyway; if the monsters overtake them, no hiding place on the ship will be sufficient to hide her. She’d rather die on her feet with her knife in her hand than dragged out of hiding and executed.

Percy had protested her getting up today, but she couldn’t sit still any longer. There was nothing to distract her (except the blankets that smelled irritatingly like Percy, who she apparently couldn’t get her mind off anyway) and her thoughts started driving her crazy.

Now, walking around and nodding at the surviving crew members, she feels herself return to normal. The light breeze off the sea blows gently through her hair. She has a blanket wrapped like a shawl around her arms. Although the worst of her fever has passed, she still shivers from time to time.

She wanders around, watching as the crew prepares for another battle. Weapons are being cleaned, repaired, and redistributed. Leo is busy fixing Festus and the ship, as well as installing some nasty new weapons. She watches him for a while, occasionally pointing out suggestions. When he sees her for the first time, Festus clicks and whirls happily (or so Leo translates). Annabeth wishes she could look at Festus without seeing Silena riding him to battle one last time.

Annabeth has had time to think about a lot of things. While bedridden, she’s come to terms with the deaths of Beckendorf and Silena. Part of her understood their sacrifice in a way she couldn’t before when she took that bullet for Percy. The anger she felt at their deaths faded away, leaving a melancholic and nostalgic feeling. She was also finally able to shut the door on her past life for good. Facing death made her realize what she really prioritizes. Although there will always be a spot in her heart for her family and for Luke, that part is no longer the one that keeps her heart beating. 

Most of all, she thinks about her interactions with Percy in the last few days. She still remembers that cold chill she’d felt down to her bones during the battle when she just knew that something bad was about to happen. Her first instinct was to cover Percy’s back.

She’d never seen someone look so furious and desperate as Percy did when she fell. Most of what she remembers is a haze, but she can clearly picture how he’d screamed and swung his sword around, standing over her protectively. Then he’d summoned up so much power that he’d blown both of their ships several days away.

She remembers him at her side every moment after. He’d held her hand while Will removed the bullet and patched her up. He’d carried her to his own cabin to give her the best lodging and privacy. And their conversation afterward…

_“Why did you take that bullet for me?”_ he asked. Her cheek still burns where he’d touched her face with his calloused fingers.

_“You would have done the same for me,”_ she responded, but it was only half the truth. The other half of the truth is something she’d known for a while but hasn’t been able to form into a coherent thought to herself, let alone confess to him.

Annabeth feels like she has so much bottled up in her chest that if there were to be one slight opening, it would all tear out. She can barely bring herself to look at him right now. She’s trying to do her best to distract herself but she can’t escape his presence. The ocean around her reminds her of his eyes, the ship under her feet reminds her of the night he changed her life, the Celestial Bronze weapons glinting in the sunlight remind her of Riptide and the way he wielded it when she was shot…

It’s going to come out somehow. Annabeth knows it. She just doesn’t know how to handle it. For once, the right words evade her. So instead of facing him, she just does her best to keep him at a distance.

She stands at the railing and grips it hard, hanging her head and looking down. Her side aches and her chest is constricting and damn Percy Jackson for making her feel this way.

“You okay?”

She half-turns to see Frank standing behind her, his forehead creased in worry.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She straightens up and faces him, her jaw clenching as the motion aggravates her injury.

“You’re just as bad as Percy,” he complains. “Always trying to play the hero, to carry everything on your own shoulders.”

“Well, I am a woman, and that’s what’s expected of us.” She offers him a weak smile. “What’s Percy’s excuse?”

“He’s too self-sacrificing for his own good.” Franks shakes his head. “Although you’re heading that way, too. I expect him to do dumb things, but you’re the smart one.”

“That’s why I did it. He’s not completely invincible.”

Frank doesn’t look surprised, just sad. “No one is,” he says. “Not even the gods. That’s why they need us.”

_Need us to die for them,_ Annabeth thinks.

“Annabeth, I understand that you want to fight when we find Sciron again. And I support you. But please, be careful.” Frank’s eyes swim. “You’re more important to everyone here than you realize. You’ve become a leader to most of the men, and a close friend to some of us. We’ve already lost too many people who are important to us.”

“I don’t plan to take any more bullets, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Annabeth steps back from the railing. “How far away do you think we are from Sciron?”

“A day at most. I’ve been charting our course and what I know of Sciron’s, and it’s going to be soon.”

Annabeth nods. One day. She may have to pay Will a visit; she needs to be in full fighting form for the final battle, whatever it takes.

-

“Captain Jackson!” a pirate yells, staring out of the spyglass. “I see a ship headed towards us!”

Annabeth turns as Percy takes the stairs two at a time up to the top deck, where he takes the spyglass and looks himself. Frank is right on his heels.

“Prepare for battle!” he shouts a second later, handing the spyglass back. 

The ship’s already busy atmosphere kicks up a notch higher. Annabeth stands in the middle of the storm, taking deep breaths to calm her nerves.

As anxious as she is for the battle ahead, she’s also ready for it. She’s sick of the nightmares, sick of living on edge, sick of worrying about Sciron. Whatever happens today, she’s ready.

Her side still hurts, but the nectar and ambrosia have all but healed the injury. She’s prepared to fight. Most of the crew members (the ones who survived the first battle, at least) are also healed and well-armed.

Nico grips his black sword. He’s outfitted in all black armor. Instead of hiding in the shadows, he’s now become a shadow. Will stands at his side wearing golden armor - too many close calls during the last battle, apparently - and looking like the sun itself. They’re an odd pair, that’s for sure, but Annabeth also sees why they’re good for each other.

Frank has on golden armor to match his spear. He also has his bow and a quiver of arrows strapped to his back. He has a new scar on the edge of his right eyebrow from the last battle, but he looks more confident today than Annabeth has ever seen him.

Leo isn’t wearing armor, but he has special gloves that he designed to focus his fire in order to harness it as a weapon. As usual, he has his toolbelt around him, and Annabeth knows he’s been installing a lot of new dangerous weapons and traps around the ship and Festus.

Percy’s not wearing any armor. She knows he’s practically invincible, but she’s still worried. She remembers him telling her that the bullet she took would have killed him. She hopes it was just a lucky shot by Sciron and not a sign that he knows Percy’s weakness.

She’s wearing some bronze armor that she scavenged from the cargo hold. It’s a patchwork set, but she’s more worried about the practicality than the aesthetic. She doubts it will hold up against Sciron’s gun if he decides to try and shoot her again, but it might help against the monsters.

The sky around them darkens, the clouds roll in thick and heavy, and the winds pick up. In the distance, now visible with the naked eye, is Sciron’s dark ship.

Percy stands at the top deck, Frank at his right side, and looks over his assembled crew-turned-army.

“When you joined my crew, you knew the dangers we would be facing. You knew we’d sail where only the heroes of ages past had gone before. You knew we would fight battles for the gods and man alike. We’ve been to the Sea of Monsters and back. Some of us have been to the Underworld and back. And some of us haven’t come back.” He looks grim. “But today we’re not just fighting for any god. We’re fighting for our patron god, the ruler of the seas and my father! He gave us this ship, and he’s given us many fair winds and calm seas. He’s escorted our fallen friends and shipmates into the next life in return for their service, and he will do the same for all of us when it is our time. The sea gave us a home when the world rejected us, and now it is our time to fight for it!”

A cheer goes up from the sailors. Percy watches them all for a long minute, looking sad. Then he turns and says something to Frank, and his first mate descends the steps, leaving Percy alone.

Annabeth turns back to the sea. Sciron’s ship is closing in, close enough to see the monsters of the deck. The crew of the _Argo II_ scatter, taking their battle positions. Leo runs around and arms his weapons. Annabeth glances back at Percy and realizes it might be the last time she ever sees him. She wades through the bustle on the deck and climbs to the top deck.

Thunder rumbles around them. Annabeth’s hair, tied back in a ponytail, is buffered wildly by the wind. Percy’s eyes are darker, as if they’re reflecting the sea around him. He watches Sciron’s ship as every second brings his destiny closer.

“So this is it,” she says, standing next to Percy at the railing. “The final battle.”

“Yeah.” He glances over at her. “Try not to get shot this time, okay?”

She rolls her eyes. “Only if you try not to expose your Achilles’ heel.”

“Deal.” He looks back out in front of him. “Annabeth, if things go south…”

“Don’t say that.”

“Jump into the sea. My father will protect you.”

“I’m not abandoning ship, Percy. If we’re overrun, then I’m dying on my feet with my knife in my hand. Even if I did escape, what kind of life would I have? Sciron would destroy the world with the pearl, and even if he didn’t, I would have lost all my friends.” Annabeth shakes her head. “This is where I’m meant to be.”

“I knew you’d say that.” He looks back at her. “I had to try, anyway.”

“I know.” She stares at him, a thousand different thoughts clouding her head. There’s so much she wants to say, and so little time. Why did she wait? What was she so afraid of? She was stupid. 

Maybe it’s her imagination, but she thinks she can read the same thoughts in Percy’s eyes. Normally he’s so hard to read, but for once she knows exactly what’s going on in his head.

“Annabeth, I - ”

She cuts him off, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him towards her and kissing him. When she releases him, he stares at her with a stunned expression on his face.

“Good luck,” she says, taking a step back. “Don’t die.”

She turns and walks away, heading down to the middeck to take her position. She has a million thoughts spinning around in her head, and at least a few of them will make her cry if she lets them. The other half would try to make her convince Percy to just run away with her now and let the gods deal with Sciron.

Sciron’s ship pulls up next to theirs, monsters foaming at the mouth and grinning maniacally as they set their eyes on the humans. Annabeth pulls out her knife and takes her place next to Frank. He nods at her once, a sign of support and solidarity. He’ll have her back.

Unlike last time, there is no banter between Percy and Sciron, no waiting period. Sciron’s ship bumps up along the side of the _Argo II_ and the monsters leap over the railing. Percy and Sciron lunge at each other, propelled by their own personal hurricanes. Battle commences.

Annabeth slices and hacks with her knife like there’s no tomorrow. She covers Frank’s back while he sweeps his spear at any advancing monsters. Around them, the crew is using everything in their power to their advantage. Leo’s Archimedes spheres are zapping monsters left and right, and other small explosions pop up as the monsters trigger his hidden traps. Festus is blowtorching any he can. Leo himself is using his gloves to fire pulses of concentrated flames at monsters, disintegrating them left and right.

Nico is summoning up legions of the undead between swinging his black sword. He seems to be pacing himself a bit more than last time. Will is at his back, blowing a golden whistle. Annabeth can’t hear any sound from it, but some of the monsters hiss and scream and claw at their ears before exploding on the spot.

Out on the ocean, Percy is launching himself at Sciron with a sword while Sciron uses the pearl’s power to fend him off. He already has a bleeding cut on his arm, though, and Percy doesn’t even look tired.

For a while, Annabeth thinks they have hope of getting out alive. Every man cuts down ten monsters or more. The entire deck is coated in monster dust and various horns, claws, and other spoils of war.

As the battle drags on, Annabeth realizes that for every monster they disintegrate, there’s a dozen more on Sciron’s ship just waiting. Percy and Sciron are stuck in a stalemate. And the crew - well, the crew is just human, and they’re starting to tire out.

They begin falling back, creating a loose circle in the middle of the deck. Annabeth realizes they must have lost about half the crew. Nico is barely staying on his feet, Will has his sword and is desperately trying to fend monsters off with it, Frank lost his spear and is alternating between shooting his bow and straight up stabbing monsters with the arrows, and Leo has exhausted his personal fire powers (though not his tricks; he’s using one of his spheres as a control and the others to attack, and it’s probably the only thing keeping the monsters at bay at this point).

Percy falls back to blast a wave of monsters off the ship, Sciron at his heels. He lands on the deck and blasts through a bunch, but more just fill their place. Then he’s ripped away again by Sciron, back out to sea.

His intervention gave the surviving crew just enough time to regroup, though. Everyone picks up new weapons, takes a few sips of nectar, and gets back in position. Annabeth glances at Frank, and she sees the same hopelessness mirrored in his eyes. They’re both smart enough to do the math.

Just as a fresh wave of monsters hit the deck of the _Argo II_ , Annabeth hears a horn blowing. The monsters all stop, and everyone looks in confusion through the rain and dark skies. The mist parts and three ships come sailing straight towards them.

The first is flying a black flag with a skull on it along with a crimson red one - none other than the _Queen Anne’s Revenge_. Annabeth has never been so happy to see Reyna standing at the bow of the ship, her purple cloak flapping dramatically in the wind behind her. The second ship is flying a red flag with a boar on it, but it’s Clarisse not Ares that’s bellowing orders from the deck. The third ship has silver flags with the moon, and a group of girls with silver bows stand on deck in a line, releasing as one. The volley lands right on the monsters, each arrow hitting its mark. Thalia throws Annabeth a mock salute as they nock their bows for a new volley. Next to her stands Jason, Piper, and Hazel. Jason raises his _gladius_ and lightning crackles down from the sky, Piper draws her bronze dagger, and Hazel brings her hand up to her mouth and whistles. Within seconds a beige stallion with dark hair blurs across the surface of the water and skids to a smoking stop next to her. He tosses his head proudly and Hazel climbs onto his back, drawing her long _spatha_. 

The monsters continue pouring out of Sciron’s ship, but now they’re being attacked on three sides. And if that isn’t enough, a few figures start climbing out of the sea and over the sides of the _Argo II_. Annabeth is about to attack when she stops in her tracks. It’s a group of cyclopes, all following one with a battle axe, an ornate Celestial bronze shield, and a serious look on his face.

“For Percy!” he shouts, hefting his axe in the air. “For Posiedon!”

The other cyclopes behind him repeat the cry and as they rush into battle. Annabeth stands, stunned, but Frank just breaks out in a grin and jogs over to the cyclops.

“Tyson! You made it!” he cries out.

Tyson turns and grins. “We did! Daddy said that Percy needed our help. I got all of Percy’s friends and we got here just in time.”

“You’re Percy’s brother?” Annabeth asks, suddenly remembering Percy’s comment about how things were different with his half-brother because he “wasn’t mortal”.

“Yes. I am Tyson. A good son of Poseidon, not like bad Sciron.” Tyson wrinkles his nose. Then he really looks at her. “You are very pretty. You must be Annabeth.”

“You know who I am?”

“Percy told me.” Tyson's grin widens and then he pulls her into a tight hug. Annabeth has to bite her tongue from crying out; her side is still very tender. “It is good to meet you!”

“You, too,” she manages to breathe out. Then he releases her, and his grin fades away.

“Percy needs our help,” he says, pointing to where he was fighting with Sciron. “I go.”

Frank grabs his shoulder. “It’s too dangerous. Sciron is Percy’s fight. We need to worry about the monsters for now.”

Tyson looks torn, but then he finally nods. “Okay. Time for bad monsters to go bye-bye.” He hefts his battle axe and charges into the fray.

Annabeth gets distracted watching Percy’s fight. He may be nearly invincible, but as long as Sciron has the pearl, Percy’s own sea powers aren’t enough for him to get the advantage. They need to get the pearl away from him somehow.

Annabeth glances around the deck, looking for something she can use. She sees one of Sciron’s gold pistols laying on the deck, probably dropped when he was chasing Percy. An idea pops in her mind so crazy that it might actually work.

She picks it up and then dashes across the deck, snatching a small Archimedes sphere out of the air. It zaps her slightly when she grabs it, but she ignores the pain.

She returns to the railing, not twenty feet from where Percy and Sciron are blasting each other with water. She cocks the pistol, aims it, and sends a prayer out to Apollo and Artemis and every other god she can think of.

Then she fires.

The bullet flies through the storm, the pistol recoiling from her hands with a loud pop. She watches as the bullet just misses the pearl in Sciron’s hands by a centimeter. It’s close enough for both Sciron and Percy to pause and turn her way.

Sciron grins cruelly. “So close,” he taunts. “My guns would never betray me.”

Annabeth cocks her head to the side. “I didn’t miss,” she replies.

The Archimedes sphere swoops in, a thin claw hand retracting out and snatching up the pearl. Then it zips back to the deck before Sciron can react.

Sciron’s jaw drops, and Percy backhands him with a wave. He disappears under the water, and Percy propels himself back to the deck. His feet hit the wood with a loud thud and then he reaches his hand out. The Archimedes sphere drops the pearl in his palm.

Sciron erupts from the water, shooting at them with his remaining pistol. Annabeth steps behind Percy and the bullets ricochet off his iron skin. He clenches his fingers around the pearl and a whirlpool begins forming. Sciron tries to rocket himself away, but the water no longer obeys him. He’s sucked into the vortex. It suddenly drops, and Sciron’s scream fades away as the waters close over him and the whirlpool washes out.

“Where did he go?” Annabeth asks, peering out from behind Percy.

“I sent him straight to Tartarus. Can’t risk him escaping the Underworld again.” Percy’s face is grim. He raises his hands, and the sea around them calms. The clouds lighten and start drifting away, and the winds die down.

He makes a motion with his arm and waves rise out and wash away the monsters from the decks of the four ships, also carrying away Sciron’s dark ship but leaving all their allies unharmed.

In less than a minute the battle is over and all the evidence washed away.

“I have to go return this to my father,” Percy says, looking intently at the tiny pearl that had caused them so much trouble. “I’ll be back.”

He disappears over the side of the ship, Tyson and the cyclopes following him. 

“So what do we do now?” Frank asks, glancing around at the other ships. Clarisse has a fist in the air and is screaming challenges at the vanished monsters. Reyna and Hylla are wiping their swords off on their pants. Thalia and the hunters are picking up spoils of war from the deck of their ship.

Annabeth watches as Will drops his whistle and Nico’s sword and fumbles for his medical bag.

“We help the wounded,” she says. “And we wait.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All rights belong to Rick Riordan. I take no credit, and I do not mean to break any copyright rules. This is simply a work of fiction made for enjoyment. No money is being made.
> 
> Rating: T for dark themes and violence
> 
> Author's Note: Last chapter!! Thank you all so much for reading and supporting this story! I appreciated all your comments over the past few weeks and I'm glad that you all gave this little story a chance. I never planned on writing this story, it just kind of happened during quarantine, but I'm glad I wrote it and it all came together decently. Percabeth was my first ship and OTP and I'll always have a soft spot in my heart for them.

**Chapter 27**

The mismatched flotilla reaches Calypso’s island a few days later. Clarisse only sticks around long enough to loudly proclaim that she only showed up because it promised a good fight, not because she was helping Percy or anything. Although everyone was more than grateful for her timing and help, they also breathed a sigh of relief when she and her ship headed back out onto the seas.

Calypso is once again a gracious host. The Hunters of Artemis set up tents along the beach for everyone while Leo and Annabeth set to work designing and building more huts in the village area. The once small hearth fire that Annabeth had met Hestia at now burns as a fifteen foot bonfire each night, sailors and hunters and demigods alike gathering around and retelling stories and laughing and singing. Calypso sits slightly off to the side, watching with a content smile. Annabeth can see the hint of sadness behind her eyes, though. She’s happy for now, while her island is full of people, but she also knows that it won’t last forever.

Annabeth mostly notices her because she, too, sits just outside the crowd. Her eyes are constantly straying out to the sea, watching and waiting for Percy to return. No matter how much the others try to drag her into the festivities, she can never fully take her mind off him.

While the crews heal from their injuries and the ships are being repaired, Annabeth finds time to talk more with the others. She, Reyna, and Piper walk around the island together. It’s nice to meet other women who relate to her struggles. Hearing Reyna’s stories of how she and Hylla clawed their way to the top of the _Queen Anne’s Revenge_ , eventually earning the crew’s respect and obedience and Piper’s journey of being a daughter of the love goddess and not having high expectations yet blowing everyone away anyway - it makes Annabeth realize that she’s not as alone as she thought in this world. She used to think that without Percy, she was on her own; now she knows that there’s a world of opportunity awaiting her.

Annabeth also spends a lot of time alone, walking around and observing the interactions between everyone. She notices Reyna and Frank talking seriously one evening after dinner. She sees Thalia and Jason talking animatedly. Piper and Leo seem to have developed a strange friendship where Leo cracks bad jokes and Piper smiles and punches him (though Annabeth could argue that’s his relationship with almost everyone). The oddest pair is Hazel and Nico, who spend a lot of time walking around in the shadows. Apparently they share a godly figure for a dad, though Hazel looks vibrant and full of light and life, especially compared to her brother.

All the people on this island come from very different backgrounds and have often fought each other in the past; yet now, bonded by the shared battle and Calypso’s magic, unbreakable bonds have been forged. Sciron may have been unsuccessful in his quest for power, but he accomplished something that no one else has been able to do. He changed the world - the magic one, at least.

“The best things can come from the cruelest acts,” a voice says. Annabeth blinks out of her thoughts and realizes she’s standing by the hearth. Hestia, now in the form of a young woman, sits by the flames. 

Annabeth takes a seat across from her. “The past week has been magical,” she says. “I’ve never seen everyone so happy. Even Calypso.”

“The gods were cruel to curse Calypso. Even crueler still to not entirely break her curse even after they swore to. But look what her island has become.” Hestia spreads her arms out. “This hearth fire is the strongest I’ve ever felt.”

Each one of the people here has a place they call home, whether it be the _Argo II_ , New Rome, the _Queen Anne’s Revenge_ , or among their camp, wherever the hunt may take them. But here, on Ogygia, is a place where everyone can call home. A safe place, where monsters cannot reach them and time does not touch them.

“Calypso has spent thousands of years thinking that Ogygia is her curse,” Hestia continues. “But look what she’s made of it. The gods gave her an island, and she created a home. A paradise for weary and lost travellers.”

“I don’t know what we would have done without her,” Annabeth admits. “Even after what happened between her and Percy, she still welcomed us with open arms.”

“My sister, Hera, is the goddess of family, but I believe that Calypso represents those ideals better than my sister ever could. Family is not something that is given; it is created. Hera does not understand that.”

“Won’t you get in trouble for saying that? Isn’t she the queen of the gods?”

Hestia laughs lightly. “I would, if anyone paid me any attention. Most people take what I give for granted. Home is not something people tend to value until they lose theirs.”

Annabeth thinks of the faraway sad look in Calypso’s eyes this past week, even though she’s obviously happy to be surrounded by so many people. She’s been so worried about everyone leaving that she hasn’t realized how drastically things have changed.

Ogygia is no longer some mysterious island that one hero every millennia gets sent to; it is now a safe place for anyone needing rest and healing. Annabeth wouldn’t be surprised if some of the people here choose to stay indefinitely. Perhaps Calypso will find the love she’s desperately yearning for in one of them.

“What about you, Annabeth?” Hestia asks, fixing her fiery eyes on her. “Have you decided where your home is?”

For once in her life, Annabeth doesn’t think. She just follows her heart. “I do.”

“Good.” Hestia smiles then waves her hand and disappears in a light column of smoke.

As if on cue, Annabeth hears a shout coming from the beach. She rushes over and sees Percy emerging from the waves, a relaxed smile on his face. He greets everyone and gets stuck in a crowd as everyone congratulates him on his victory or asks questions about his whereabouts. Although Annabeth stands back and lets everyone go ahead of her, she feels happy in a way she didn’t know was possible.

That evening, the party rages harder than it has for the past week. Annabeth doesn’t stay on the edge of the crowd anymore; she dances in the middle of the group along with all her friends. They stay up until the sun begins rising and the sky turns pink. The fire in the hearth dies down, but the embers glow so strongly that no wind or rain could blow it out.

Annabeth returns to her cabin on the _Argo II_ , which she and Leo have been working hard this past week to repair. She collapses into her hammock, the rocking of the ocean lulling her into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next day, everything changes.

The hunters pack up and leave in the morning. Thalia doesn’t even bother trying to convince Annabeth to join, instead throwing her a knowing wink as they board their ship. Jason and Piper go with them, having made arrangements to be dropped off at New Rome. Annabeth is sad to see them go, but she’s sure it won’t be the last time they cross paths.

After the midday meal, Reyna, Hylla, and the crew of the _Queen Anne’s Revenge_ prepare to leave. Reyna summons Percy and Annabeth, and they stand along the shore by the ship, Frank and Hazel standing at Reyna’s right hand side.

“There’s been some changes to my ship,” Reyna says. “Hylla has decided to join the Amazons. I am now the captain.”

“That’s great,” Percy says. “And also terrifying.”

Reyna ignores him. “I’ve been speaking with Frank a lot recently. I asked him to be my first mate.”

Percy looks as shocked as Annabeth feels.

“I said yes,” Frank says, clasping his hands in front of him nervously. Hazel reaches out and sets a hand on his arm.

Percy continues looking stunned for a minute before a slow smile breaks out on his face. “I’m happy for you, man.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Of course not. You’ll have command over an entire fleet. It’ll be a huge upgrade for you.”

Frank looks relieved. He reaches out and he and Percy hug.

“I’ll miss you,” Percy says. “Keep in touch.”

Annabeth gives Frank a hug, too. He whispers in her ear, “Remember what I taught you. You’ll need it.”

Before Annabeth can ask what he means by that, Reyna gives them both a curt nod and then turns sharply, her cape snapping crisply. The three of them head up the gangplank to their ship.

“I saw them talking,” Annabeth says, “but I didn’t see that coming.”

Percy shrugs. “Frank didn’t have too much to do on my ship besides fighting. I think he’ll be a lot more useful working with Reyna.”

They stand together on the beach until the _Queen Anne’s Revenge_ sails out of sight. Annabeth can’t but think that if home is people as well as a place, she’s losing parts of her home a little at a time. First Beckendorf, now Frank. Will and Percy are all that’s left of her best friends from the _Pax_ , not to mention all the other sailors who perished during the battles with Sciron.

That afternoon, the crew of the _Argo II_ packs up the ship. A few sailors from the various ships still remain, either still in the process of healing or simply deciding to stay for a while. Annabeth can see how relieved Calypso looks as she goes around and gets a headcount.

“Looks like your island won’t be so lonely, after all,” she says, catching the girl between sailors.

“Things have definitely changed around here.” Calypso sets her hands on her hips and looks around at the small village of huts Annabeth and Leo had designed. “I’m thinking of expanding on what you’ve started here. I want this island to be a place for anyone who’s lost or sick or in need of help. I want this island to be a safe haven in a world of danger.”

“I think that’s what Ogygia was always meant to be.”

Calypso turns to her. “And what about you? Where will you go?”

“I’ve really enjoyed my time on the sea, so for now I’m going to stay with the _Argo II_. While I was here, I realized how much I liked designing and building things, so I think I’m going to try and study architecture a little more. I think one day I’d like to settle down somewhere I’ve created.”

“I’m glad I was able to help.” Calypso motions to the huts. “If it’s any consolation, I think you’ve done a great job with the village. If you need somewhere to practice, feel free to come back.”

“I will,” Annabeth promises. “And Calypso?”

“Yes?”

“I know you’re bitter because you were sent here as a curse, but look what a blessing you’ve made of your circumstances. You saved all of our lives, gave a place where we could rest and recover. Just because you can’t leave doesn’t mean you can’t make an impact on the world. You’re a hero, too.”

Calypso smiles weakly. “Thank you, Annabeth.”

Everyone on the island shares one last meal together. Annabeth walks around the ship afterward as everyone is finishing packing for their next journey. Calypso had been kind enough to give them all fresh clothes and enough food for them to reach the next port.

She sees Nico carrying a bundle of dark clothes and his sword into an empty cabin.

“You’re staying?” she asks, unable to hide her surprise.

He shrugs, looking awkward. “For now,” he says.

Annabeth thinks of how excited Will is going to be, and she smiles at him. “I’m glad.”

Nico’s eyebrows crease together, but he doesn’t say anything else. Annabeth knows he’s not used to being wanted and accepted, but he’ll get there. The others on the ship will start to see him not as the son of Hades and the ghost king, but as a young man with a troubled past looking for a better future - just like the rest of them. And if anyone has a problem, she and Will will be there to stick up for him.

She wanders back on deck, where she looks back over the island of Ogygia. There are pairs of lit torches lining the path from the beach to the village as some of the sailors are still bringing things to and from. The firelight glows softly in the early twilight.

She sees Percy standing on the beach, his feet bare and his pants rolled up as the waves roll in up to his ankles. She doesn’t entirely understand why he rolls up his pants since he doesn’t get wet, but when he waves her over she forgets her line of thought.

She heads down the gangplank and onto the beach. When she reaches him, he has his hands stuffed in his pockets and he’s staring out at the remains of the sunset.

“What is it?” she asks, stopping next to him.

“Things are a lot different than when you first joined my ship.”

“So I noticed.”

Percy’s silent for a moment. “When I returned the pearl to my father, we had to tie up some loose ends. Do you remember that buyer I mentioned in England? The one who started the whole quest?”

Annabeth nods.

“Turns out it was a minor god who was trying to create upheaval in Olympus. The minor gods have been angry at the Olympians for a long time. When I saved Olympus from the Titan uprising a few years ago, many of the minor gods had turned. As part of my reward from Zeus, I asked for forgiveness for them, as well as recognition.” Percy’s voice turns bitter. “Obviously you’ve seen how well the gods actually carry through on their promises.”

The sky rumbles. Percy glares at it.

“My father, along with Artemis and Athena, have been petitioning Zeus to make things right. They are the only Olympians who recognize the chasm between the major gods and the minor ones, as well as demigods. Especially after Sciron, my father realizes how dangerous they can be and how much damage they can do.”

“Zeus doesn’t sound like he listens to them.”

“No. Zeus does what he wants. And Hera isn’t helping, either, because she likes to think of herself and the Olympians as superior to the others. Accepting minor gods and demigods doesn’t fit into her ideal of a perfect family, especially since a lot of them are Zeus’ children with other women.”

“So what does that have to do with us?”

Percy hesitates, staring down at the waves washing over their feet. “When I was Sciron’s prisoner, I got really angry at the gods. Beckendorf and I were locked in the bottom of his ship, tortured every day for information, and no one came to rescue us. I understood why other demigods and minor gods could turn on Olympus. I was especially enraged at my father, to the point where I actually lost my powers. Beckendorf is the one who talked me out of it. He still believed that they were watching out for us. When he blew up Sciron’s ship and my father saved me, I was ashamed to see him after what I had been thinking. My dad did look out for me when he could have let me die. It’s not that he abandoned me, it’s that he had to let me find my own path.”

Annabeth remembers a conversation a long time ago when Percy told her about the ancient laws that required gods to not be involved too directly in the fates of their demigod children. But that doesn’t mean abandoning them.

“We talked about it a lot. We made our peace. But there are lots of gods who aren’t as caring as my father. There are lots of demigods and minor gods who feel abandoned and no one to prove them wrong. There’s an uprising happening, and it’s my job to find those people and try to make things right. My father is going to continue petitioning Zeus and the other Olympians, as well as reaching out to his own children and making amends.”

“So that’s our new mission? Seek out minor gods and lost demigods?”

Percy nods. “As well as trying not to die, like usual.”

Annabeth nods. “Where are we headed to first?”

“I’m not sure where we are right now. The island’s magic is throwing off my navigation senses. Once we’re out to sea, we’ll head for the first major port so we can finish loading up on supplies. Then we need to head to Tortuga and recruit some new sailors. We’re running on a skeleton crew right now.”

“Are you going to look for a new first mate there?”

Percy glances over, giving her a funny look. “What do you mean?”

“Now that Frank’s gone, you need a new first mate.”

“Actually, I kinda thought you would take that position.”

Annabeth is stunned for a moment. Then she realizes why Frank had told her, _“Remember what I taught you. You’ll need it.”_ Had he known this whole time that he was preparing Annabeth for the position?

“I’d be honored,” Annabeth finally says. “But will the crew be okay with it? It’s highly unusual, and I’ve only been on the ship for a few months.”

“The crew has seen what you can do. They respect you. And any new sailors we pick up will learn quickly.” 

Annabeth doesn’t feel pressured by the new responsibility. In fact, it energizes her. Already a dozen thoughts race through her mind about things she wants to change, ideas she wants to implement. She turns and begins to pace, murmuring to herself as she sorts them out.

Percy grabs her arm, halting her. He’s smiling. 

“Before you get too involved with your new job, there’s one other thing I wanted to talk about.”

“Yeah?”

He reaches up and scratches the back of his neck, one of his nervous habits. Annabeth thinks she knows where this conversation is going and her heart begins to race in anticipation.

“You know when I went to fight Sciron, right before I jumped overboard…” Percy looks down, and even in the dim light Annabeth can see how red his cheeks are.

She knows exactly what he’s referring to. She’d kissed him. It had been a completely impulsive move, and now she’s super embarrassed. She’d only done it because there was a decent chance one of them was going to die. It was probably a mistake, seeing as their relationship has been so complicated, but she doesn’t regret it.

“When I went into the River Styx to become invulnerable, I felt like I was fading away. The river strips away all your hopes and dreams and everything that makes you who you are. It literally tears you apart. I had to focus on the one thing that kept me anchored to the mortal world.”

“Like Achilles’ mom holding his heel literally kept him anchored,” Annabeth blurts out before the full impact of what he’s saying settles in. She clamps her mouth shut and then it’s her cheeks that are turning bright red.

“Exactly like that.” Percy pauses. “Before I went into the river, I had to get my mom’s blessing. She’s in Elysium, the part of the Underworld for heroes. She got in because she died trying to protect me from the Minotaur. When I saw her, it was hard for me to not want to be there with her. For most of my life, she’s all I had. I mean, my friends are great, but not enough for me to want to stay. And - ” He chokes up. “Beckendorf was there, too. He’d just arrived.”

Annabeth reaches up and sets a hand on his arm, feeling a wave of grief wash over her.

“When I went into the river, I didn’t have a reason to stay attached to the mortal world. But then I remembered you. Even though you left with Luke, all I could think about was how Sciron was a threat to you. He was going to tear the whole world apart, magic and normal alike, and you were a part of that world. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“Percy - ”

He turns to her, his eyes intense in a way she’s never seen them before. “It scared me how much I cared about you. How desperately protective I felt of you. That’s why I avoided you at first when I came back. I was scared of how strongly I felt.”

Annabeth takes a step closer and cups her hands around his face. “I came back for you, too.” She feels a slow smile spread out across her face. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

His lips touch hers, the sea crashing around their feet and the sky darkening above them, and for the first time in her life, Annabeth feels truly, wholly, complete.


End file.
